Harrison Evans & the Hogwarts First Year
by DragonKatGal
Summary: *COMPLETE* Without the scar, without the hair, without the name...Harrison Evans is just another Gryffindor trying to make it through First Year. *NEW* Chapter 17 - The Epilogue.
1. The Hogwarts Express

Harrison Evans and the Hogwarts First Year

DISCLAIMER: JKR owns this stuff, and I do not. *sigh*

SUMMARY: Without the scar, without the hair, without the name...Harrison Evans is just another Gryffindor trying to make it through First Year.

NOTES: This really focuses on the friendship between Hermione and Harrison, and thus has a lot of mushy moments between them. If you don't like these two being cute together, then GO AWAY! (as Moaning Myrtle would say.)

Also, Ron who?

ONWARDS:

**ONE: THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS**

Hermione Granger could barely contain her excitement as she sat in her seat on the Hogwarts Express. Her uniform was neatly pressed, her hair was as tamed as she could get it, and her tie was perfectly knotted, thanks to a quick lesson from her father. The grin on her face was uncontained, and she could barely keep herself from bouncing in her seat.

She was a witch!

She was a witch, and magic was real. She'd received her letter for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry nearly a year ago, and the moment she'd read it, so much about her life had made sense. _This_ was the reason that she'd never been able to fit into normal schoolroom classes. _This_ was the reason that even when she was with her family, she felt as though she was the outsider. Being the only witch in her family was something unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome.

She spotted her parents faces in the crowd of milling parents on Platform 9 ¾, and waved excitedly to them. They smiled at her and waved back, as a whistle blew, and the train finally jerked into motion. She kept waving until the train had pulled away from the platform, and she could no longer see her family.

She sighed contentedly and sat back in her seat. She kept an eye on the door of her compartment, watching as students aged between eleven and eighteen found their way to their friends. A boy who looked about her own age slid the door open and looked in hesitantly.

"May I?" he asked, gesturing towards the empty seat opposite her.

She waved her hand for him to come in. "Of course, come in," she replied, politely.

He slid the door closed behind him and hoisted himself onto the seat. Hermione couldn't help but flick her eyes to his above his eyebrows, curiousity burning within her.

"Are you, uh...I mean, you're..."

The boy grinned at the implied question. He slipped his hand up to his head and pulled off the violet bandana with the logo for the Cancer Research UK stencilled onto it. Hermione's eyes widened as she took in his almost completely bald head with its barely there dark stubble.

"C-chemo?" Hermione asked.

"No. My brother has leukaemia, he's in remission right now, but when he was going through treatments, he lost all his hair. I shaved mine off in solidarity. Anyway, we colour-coded our bandanas for each of the different days for while I'm away. Today's violet, Monday through Friday is the first five colours of the spectrum, and Saturday's are indigo."

"Red, orange, yellow, green, blue," Hermione recited. She bit her lip, mortified at the torrent of information she'd unthinkingly released. "Sorry...I-I can't even imagine. I'm sorry, about your brother."

"He's alright. Dud's a fighter. He's strong."

"Still, it can't have been easy."

The boy sighed. "It wasn't. Dud was diagnosed when we were four, and it destroyed our family really. His dad Vernon took off, and mum could barely keep up with money. There were a few weeks that we barely made it through. We got there though. Dud's better than ever, he's back in school, and I'm a freakin' _wizard_."

Hermione couldn't help but smile at his emphatic statement about his discovery of magic. "Your parents don't have magic?"

He shook his head. "Mum doesn't. Mum's sister did, though, so mum wasn't really that surprised. I'm just disappointed that Dud can't come with me. I think he is too."

"You two must be really close?"

He nodded. "It's just been us for years. Dud was so sick, he couldn't go to school, and I hated being there without him. Whenever he was in hospital, mum couldn't keep me out of there. I'm a perfect match for him, so whenever he needs marrow or platelets or anything, I'm right there next to him. He's my best friend," he sighed softly. "I almost didn't come to Hogwarts when I found out."

"What made you decide to?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Dud wanted me to. Said that if I couldn't get a control of my 'magical mishaps', as he called them, then I'd be pretty useless. And then mum wondered if there wasn't a magical cure that could help Dud, and that pretty much decided it for me."

Hermione's eyes widened. "And is there?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Everything I've read so far says no, but I don't know if that's just because I've been reading the wrong things, or if it's not something that witches and wizards have had to deal with. I can't find even find a single reference to cancer or leukaemia in anything I've read."

"You know, I was reading Hogwarts: A History, and it says that the school has the most complete library of any of the magical schools in the northern hemisphere. Maybe when we're at school, you'll find something more definitive. Or you could ask the school nurse."

He stared at her, wide-eyed. "I hadn't thought of that. Thanks uh...oh. Well, that's rude. I spill my guts out, and I don't even know your name."

"Hermione," she replied, with a smile. She'd never had anyone just 'spill their guts' to her before. She rather liked it. "Hermione Granger."

"I'm Harrison Evans. You're really easy to talk to, you know that?"

Hermione flushed. No one had ever said that to her before, either. "I uh...thanks."

Harrison grinned. "Say, tell me about you. Are you a first generation witch?"

Hermione shook her head in confusion. "First generation?"

"Well, I really hate the word 'muggle'. It just seems...racist," Harrison said.

"Oh, well, yes, I am. First generation, I mean. My parents were very surprised, though they did say it explained a lot of things that had been happening since I was little."

Harrison laughed. "What was your first clue?"

Hermione smiled. "I was four, and mum wouldn't read me another bedtime story, as I'd already had three. So...I held out my hand to a book on the other side of the room, and it came to me."

"Wicked! What else?"

"Uh, well, one of the girls in my class was teasing me about my...about my teeth," Hermione confessed. "And I got so mad, and then...well, _her_ teeth started growing until they were nearly a foot long."

Harrison's eyes widened in shock. "Cripes, what happened after that? I mean, didn't everyone freak out?"

"I don't know," Hermione said. "I ran away as soon as I saw. I was terrified of going back to school, but Daddy made me. Anyway, when I got to school, her teeth were, well, they were the same size as mine, but...nobody remembered what had happened the day before. Not even the girl it happened to. I don't really know what made everybody forget though. And, horrible as it sounds, I was just glad that she had the same teeth as I did. She didn't like being teased either."

Harrison studied Hermione's teeth curiously. "They're not that bad," he said. "You'll grow into them, in any case. That's what mum says about Dud's anyway."

Hermione felt herself blushing once more. It was the first time anyone her own age had said anything positive to her about her teeth. She didn't know whether or not to believe him, but it was certainly the nicest thing anyone had said about them.

A loud thump in the corridor broke Hermione's lapse into awkward silence, and the door to their compartment slid open. A red headed boy poked his head inside and looked between them.

"Sorry, I was looking for, uh...my brothers," the boy explained.

He left as quickly as he'd entered.

"I got the feeling he wasn't being entirely honest," Hermione said.

"Me too," Harry said quietly. What the boy had been looking for was a mystery though, so it was promptly put from their minds.

"Harrison, are you worried about, well, being a wizard? Learning spells and everything?" Hermione asked curiously.

He breathed out slowly. "Yeah. A little. I mean, what I know about magic is all top hats and rabbits. I don't know the first thing about Charms and Transfiguration and Potions. I didn't even try anything with my wand. You?"

"Uh, I may have tried a few simple spells. And, they all worked for me, but I can't help but be really nervous. What if all the wizarding kids are years ahead of us?"

"Well, mum said that when her sister went, she was the brightest witch of her age. But, I don't know if that's just mum being biased. But, if my aunt could do it, then, so can we," Harrison proclaimed.

Hermione let out a sigh of relief that she didn't realise she'd been holding.

"Did you talk to your aunt about magic at all?"

"No, she died when I was really little. I don't remember her at all," Harrison said. "Mum said that she died in some sort of wizarding civil war."

"I read about that, in Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts," Hermione said. "There was a massive war over a decade ago, where a group of extremist Purebloods rallied around a Dark Lord to try and wipe out anyone with 'impure' blood. First generations, and people of mixed heritage."

Harrison's eye narrowed in dislike. "Sounds like Hitler."

"Doesn't it just," Hermione replied. "Except the resistance against the Dark Lord was practically nil. Just the Aurors, and a group of vigilantes called the Order of the Phoenix. Anyway, the story goes that the Dark Lord was defeated when he cast a curse at a baby boy, but the curse rebounded, and vanquished the Dark Lord instead."

Harrison looked at his new friend in vague disbelief. "You're kidding," he snorted. "A baby vanquished the Dark Lord?"

"That's what the history books say about it," Hermione confirmed. "Actually, he's about our age, and according to the books, his name is Harry Potter. The wizarding world call him the Boy-Who-Lived."

Harrison froze. "Potter?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes. His parents were students at Hogwarts. James and Lily Potter. The Dark Lord killed them before he tried to kill Harry," she explained. She couldn't help but noticed how pale Harrison had gone. "What's wrong?"

"It's just...I may not have been entirely honest earlier."

Hermione shook her head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Well, Dud's not my brother, he's my cousin. And my mum's actually my aunt, and my aunt is actually my mum."

"You've lost me, Harrison," Hermione said.

"My aunt...well, my birth mum, her name was Lily Potter."

"So..._you're_ Harry Potter?"

Harrison nodded. "I didn't know about this whole Boy-Who-Lived thing, though. I just knew that my birth parents died in the war. My aunt's been a mother to me my whole life, and Dud's my brother so, it's really _not_ a lie. It's just not exactly science. I really didn't mean to lie, it's just-"

"They're your family, Harry," Hermione said, her voice soft with compassion and understanding.

"Harrison, please," he said softly. "I...I don't liked being called Harry."

Hermione nodded. "Of course, whatever you prefer."

He sighed. "Well, that was unexpected," he said. "What kind of title is 'the Boy-Who-Lived' anyway?"

"Well, according to all the books I read on it, the title came about because the Dark Lord cast what's known as a Killing Curse at...Harry Potter. There's never been anyone in history who has lived through it. Until...well, the Boy-Who-Lived. Supposedly the curse bounced back and vanquished the Dark Lord."

"Huh...that's the weirdest thing anyone has ever told me. Remembering of course, that a few weeks ago, I was told I'm a freakin' wizard."

"Uh, Harrison, I don't mean to alarm you, but, you might want to know that, well, you're famous in the wizarding world," Hermione said. "Everyone knows your name. And I do mean everyone."

Harrison rubbed a hand over the stubble on his head, unable to reconcile this news with his knowledge of his life. He'd been surprised enough to learn about the existence of magic at all, let alone trying to deal with the idea that he was famous. His mum certainly hadn't told him about that. He wondered if she even knew.

"How do you know all this stuff? There's nothing about this in any of our textbooks," Harrison said.

Hermione flushed a dull pink. "I read a lot."

"Yeah, but you've only had a few weeks to read it all."

"Weeks?" Hermione repeated. "I've had months."

Harrison glanced at her questioningly. "Months?"

"I got my letter the week before my eleventh birthday. That was September of last year. _After_ first term had started already. I've had to wait nearly twelve months for this. I've had a lot of reading time."

Harrison winced. "Ouch. A year? I was barely able to wait a few weeks. I made mum take me to Diagon Alley for supplies the week before my birthday."

The door to their compartment slid open, and a boy with silver blonde hair looked inside. He sneered in their direction.

"Definitely not this lot," he commented to his two gorilla-like friends.

He stood waiting for a reaction, though neither Harrison nor Hermione rose to take the bait. Hermione knew from previous experience that the blonde was going to be a bullying bigot, and if she wasn't mistaken, would most likely be one of the more affluent students attending Hogwarts.

Harrison raised an eyebrow at the blonde boy, silently challenging him. The blonde couldn't stand the silence, and so, filled it with his own voice.

"Rumour has it that Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts," the boy said pompously.

"Who?" Harrison asked with a quick wink to Hermione.

"Ugh," the blonde groaned. "Muggleborns."

"I prefer to think of us as being first generation witches and wizards. And besides, what's so special about your bloodline?"

"I am a Malfoy," he pronounced egotistically. "My bloodline is pure going back to the time of Merlin. And you are beneath me in every way."

"I doubt that," Harrison said. "So, this whole 'pureblood' thing, does that mean you'll be marrying your cousin or something, because from the looks of you, I'd say your parents were related already, and too much inbreeding can cause brain damage. Just so you know."

Malfoy's hands clenched into fists. "You filthy little mudblood! How dare you?"

"Malfoy, was it? Why don't you run along with your boyfriends, and try and find this Harold Spotter bloke whoever the heck he is, and leave my friend and I alone. Frankly you're ruining the mood here," Harrison said.

"It's Harry Potter, and he's only the saviour of the wizarding world. He'll be the most influential wizard in this generation, and I plan on being there next to him," Malfoy boasted.

"Well, good luck with that," Harrison said. "Keep on trying, and all."

Malfoy glared, certain that the stubble-haired boy was mocking him, but uncertain as to how exactly. He nodded to his two friends, and they left the compartment with their cloaks flowing behind them.

"I see what you mean," Harrison said. "That was bizarre."

"Harrison, are you sure you should have insulted him like that?" Hermione asked timidly. "It's just, well, boys like him tend to get their way."

Harrison shrugged. "He can get his way all he wants, but he's not going to matter in the long run. He talks a good game, but the second someone bigger and stronger comes along, he'll crumble like a leaf."

Hermione wasn't entirely certain, but she was bolstered by Harrison's confidence. She'd never met anyone like him, and the fact that he was so easy to talk to was more comforting than anything else.

"Can I ask a personal question?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

Harrison nodded. "Alright. Just, I may not answer, okay?"

"That's fair. It's just...in all the books I read about the war, whenever it mentioned, well, Harry Potter, it mentioned a very unique scar that he had on his forehead. And, well, you don't have one," Hermione said, trying her best to be tactful.

Harrison grinned and licked his finger, before wiping it over a spot on his forehead. A jagged scar in the shape of a lightning bolt revealed itself before Harrison replaced the bandana to cover the scar.

"Makeup?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah. When I was really little, people were teasing me about it at school, so my mum used to cover it with foundation to hide it. I've done it ever since. It only takes a minute to cover it up, and people don't notice it. Plus the bandana covers it if worse comes to worst," he explained. "You're telling me my scar is famous too?"

"It's probably going to be the most indentifying mark you could have," Hermione said.

"Hmmm...well, I'll just keep it covered I guess. You won't tell anyone, will you?"

"Never," Hermione swore solemnly. "I would never tell anyone."

Harrison grinned. "Great. So, tell me, do you have siblings?" he asked.

Hermione quickly forgot about the blonde boy and settled back into conversation with her new friend, eager to cement their connection, and learn everything she could about him, while teaching him everything about her in kind.

The only other interruption in their day was a chubby-faced boy who popped his head into their carriage.

"Have either of you seen a toad?" the boy asked. "Only, mine's run off."

"Sorry, mate. What's his name?"

"Trevor," the boy replied despondently. "And I'm Neville."

"Nice to meet you Nev," Harrison said, reaching forward to shake Neville's hand. "This is Hermione. And I'm Harrison."

"Nice to meet you both," he replied. "W-will you let me know if you find Trevor?"

"Absolutely."

00000000000

For Hermione, the six hour train trip to Hogwarts was the best few hours of her life. She'd made her first friend in her entire life, and watched him stand up to someone who only hours ago would have made her cry. She could tell that Harrison Evans was going to be a one of a kind friend, and she had no intention of letting him go.

The sky darkened outside, and Harrison peered out into the darkness.

"I think I can see it," he exclaimed excitedly.

Hermione raced to the window, and leant up close to the window, her face to the window, a smile on her lips. "Hogwarts!"

"A whole new world," Harrison said. "A dazzling place I never knew."

Hermione smiled at him happily. "That's one of my favourite movies," she said.

"Mine too. I always wished I could be like Genie, granting wishes. And now...I'm a freakin' wizard!"

Hermione laughed heartily. "And I'm a freakin' witch."

Harrison grinned. "I have a feeling this is going to be a great year."

"The best year ever."

00000000

A.N: So, this has been in the mental pipeline for about two years. I wanted to write a purely HP fic, as my specialty is HP/BTVS crossovers. So, here's my first offering of a novella.

Also, while I'm following the basic outline for the first book/film, there will be many changes. I've taken some dialogue, but I've re-written about eighty percent of it.

Let me know what you think, please?

DKG


	2. The Sorting Feast

Hey peeps, thanks for all the great reviews.

Just a note or two. First, through the whole story, Harry's name will be Harrison, sometimes shortened to Harris or Haitch.

Second, there's no bashing of any characters, though some of them are on the shady side. Ron is, I hope, basically portrayed as he is in book one canon. Thoughtless, insensitive, and jealous, particularly in regards to Hermione. I don't _hate_ Ron, I just don't like him enough to write him in a large role.

Lastly, I have finished writing this story, and it runs at seventeen chapters and at about 45,000 words. So, fear not, it will be a complete story by the time I get through posting it all.

**TWO: THE SORTING FEAST**

Harrison and Hermione stepped off the train, and heard a loud voice calling for "First Years over 'ere." They made their way to the huge man who'd been yelling, and stepped up to the group of fellow first years. Harrison noted that the blonde boy, Malfoy, was looking distinctly unsatisfied. Harrison pointed him out to Hermione, who snickered behind her hand.

"First Years o'er this way," the gigantic man called. "S'at everyone then? Alright, o'er to the boats then, come on. No more than four to a boat."

Hermione and Harrison settled into an empty boat and were then joined by Neville Longbottom, the boy who'd been looking for his toad. The fourth spot in the boat was taken by a dark skinned boy named Blaise Zabini.

As soon as everyone was settled into the boats, they began moving towards the castle. There was a hushed awe as the First Years took in the magnificent castle that would be their school for the next seven years.

"It's like something from a fairytale," Hermione whispered to Harrison.

"Not like," Harrison said. "_Is_. We're freakin' magic!"

Hermione smiled happily. The boats approached the shore, and then went into an underground cave. They stopped at the bottom of a large staircase, and awkwardly clambered out. The giant man led them up the stairs were they were met by a stern-faced witch who introduced herself as Professor McGonagall. Most of the students recognised her name as being the one who'd sent their letters, the Deputy Headmistress if Hogwarts.

"You'll soon be sorted into your Houses, which will be like your families within Hogwarts. Those four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Now, house points will be awarded for good behaviour, or demerited for misbehaviour, so it is to your own benefit, and to that of you new house to put your best foot forward," McGonagall explained. "Now, all of you stay here a moment, and no wandering off."

McGonagall turned to leave, and a buzz of excitement began with all the first years whispering frantically to new friends.

"I hope I'm in Gryffindor," Hermione whispered to Harry. "That's Dumbledore's old house. It sounds like the best one."

"I don't mind what house I'm in," Harrison said. "But, it'd be great if we could stay together."

Hermione flushed with pleasure. "T-that'd be really great Harrison."

"I can't believe he didn't show up," Malfoy sneered disdainfully. "What ever happened to the great Harry Potter?"

The other first years began whispering in hushed excitement. Harrison was surprised at the furious whispering of the name his birth parents had given him. Hermione looked at him, but Harrison shook his head in silent denial.

"This school's really gone to the dogs if the saviour of the wizarding world won't even deign to come here," Malfoy said. "Potter probably heard about Durmstrang and headed there. At least there they actually teach you about the Dark Art properly."

"We all really wish you'd gone there then," Harrison said loudly. "At least then we wouldn't have to listen to you moaning."

Snickering rose from the crowd, and Malfoy's cheeks turned red with embarrassment. "At least I'd get into Durmstrang. A mudblood like you wouldn't even be accepted there. Durmstrang only accept those of pure blood, so obviously it has the best students."

"You think you could have gone to Durmstrang then?" Harrison said.

"Of course. My parents just didn't want me to be so far away from them," Malfoy said.

"So, because you're a pureblood, you're going to be the best student in class?"

"Obviously. Magic's in my blood. Of course I'm going to be the best there is."

"Care to wager on that?" Harrison challenged.

Hermione tugged on Harrison's sleeve, whispering his name in shocked disbelief. "You can't make a bet like that. You don't know anything about him. He could be a really good student."

Harrison turned to his friend and raised an eyebrow. "Him? Seriously?"

Hermione shrugged. "Well, you never know."

Harrison laughed. "So, how about it Malfoy. I bet I can get better marks by the end of first term than you can. How about it?"

"What do I get when I win?" Malfoy demanded.

"What would you want?"

"Your wand."

There was a cumulative gasp from the first years as they listened to the terms of the wager.

"Harrison, no!" Hermione objected loudly. "You can't."

"And when I win, I get yours," Harrison replied. "It'll be a nice little Christmas present to myself."

Malfoy smirked. "I sincerely doubt you'll do better than me."

"Shake on it, then," Harrison said.

Malfoy stuck his hand out, and Harrison shook it roughly. Hermione pulled her friend away from the gathered crowd who were in awe of the challenge struck between the two boys.

"Do you know what you've done?" Hermione demanded. "If he wins, you'll have to go home. You'll never be able to do magic again."

"He's not going to win, Hermione," Harrison assured her. "I knew a hundred guys like him back home. He's not the type to apply himself to anything. Besides, you heard him going on about how well purebloods do, and that's just because he has magic in his blood. Well, it's just too bad that he doesn't know that I do too."

Hermione couldn't help but be terrified for her friend. Then again, from everything she had ever read about the Potter's, James and Lily had both been very gifted magically. Lily Potter had indeed been declared the Brightest Witch of her Age. It wasn't just something that people called a smart student, it was a title that was given to the most magically talented student in a seven year span. Lily Potter had been awarded the title at seventeen upon graduating from Hogwarts with twelve O.W.L's and twelve N.E.W.T's.

James Potter hadn't been a slouch either. Though nowhere near Lily's league, he'd been the Head Boy and had been in the top two percent of his graduating class. If Harrison had inherited either of their intellects, he should have a chance against Malfoy.

Still, Hermione didn't want to imagine Harrison having to hand over his wand to Draco Malfoy.

Professor McGonagall bustled back into the waiting area and held the double doors open for them. "The Sorting will now commence."

The students made their way down through the Great Hall and clustered together in front of the long Professors table. In the centre of the raised stage, a stool with an old and tattered magic hat stood waiting. McGonagall went and stood beside the stool and hat.

There was a moment of silence, and the new first years waited, some of them trembling in fear or excitement. Hermione's eyes widened in shock as the brim of the hat opened and a deep voice began singing.

"_Oh you may not think I'm pretty_-"

"Holy Moses, that's just weird," Harrison whispered.

"It's freakin' magic," Hermione teased him.

Harrison grinned in appreciation at having his words turned back at him.

"-_in Gryffindor, where dwell the brave of heart-_"

"Do you think we have to put it on?" he asked. "Do you think you can get magic lice?"

"Shush!" Hermione said, softly. "I want to listen."

"-_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat._"

There was a round of applause from the students, but most of the first years were too stunned to do more than stare in amazement. McGonagall lifted the Hat from the chair and looked down at her list.

"Abbott, Hannah," McGonagall called.

A shy looking brown-haired girl stepped forward and took a seat on the stool as McGonagall held the magic hat above the student's head. There was a moment's pause, and then the hat yelled "HUFFLEPUFF," loudly enough for the entire hall to hear.

More applause.

"Strange way to sort people into houses, don't you think?" Harrison asked.

"According to Hogwarts: A History, it's been done this way since the year after the last of the Founders left the school," Hermione explained. "The hat's been imbued with the magical essence of the Four Founders, so it chooses where students go based on the attributes that the Founder's most valued."

Three more students were called up, and Harrison found himself start to fidget. It was soon to be his turn.

"Crabbe, Vincent" and "Davis, Tracey" became Slytherins, and then "Finch-Fletchly, Justin" was called.

Harrison turned to look at Hermione in a panic. "My name wasn't called."

"What?" Hermione asked.

"My name. She didn't call me."

Hermione remembered that he'd introduced himself as Harrison Evans on the train, though she'd nearly forgotten in the six hours since he'd said it.

"I'm about to get called, I'll tell her," Hermione promised.

Harrison bounced nervously from foot to foot, and then "Granger, Hermione" was called.

Hermione walked briskly up to McGonagall and said something so softly that no one else could hear it. The Professor's gaze landed on Harrison, and she looked down at the list. She gave Hermione a quiet answer, and the first year whispered furiously to the Professor. Hermione seemed to be quite ferocious in whatever she was whispering, and Harrison couldn't help but hope that Hermione was letting McGonagall know that his name was Evans.

Hermione looked back to her new friend and smiled brightly to him. The sorting hat was placed on Hermione's head, and she was promptly put into "GRYFFINDOR!"

Harrison was still nervous. He'd never used the name Potter. After his mum's divorce from Vernon Dursley, his mum Petunia had reverted back to her maiden name, and after legally adopting Harry, had changed his name to Harrison Evans. Dudley's last name had changed as well, and they'd been a happy family unit, despite all the troubles with Dudley's health. He didn't want to be known as Harry Potter. He wanted to be who he'd grown up as. He was Harrison Evans and no one could tell him otherwise.

"Evans, Harrison," McGonagall called.

Harrison was surprised, but pleased that she'd called him by his legal name, and that she'd slotted him in straight after Hermione. He wondered if anyone had even noticed that he'd been called out of alphabetical order. The older students didn't seem to be paying all that much attention.

"Thanks Professor," he whispered as he settled into his seat.

"They will find out, Evans," the Professor whispered.

"But not yet," he replied.

The Professor lowered the hat to his head, and Harrison felt the strange sensation of a magical talking hat speaking to him in his mind.

"Hmm, you're a strange one aren't you?" the hat whispered.

"Well, I think you're pretty strange too, but you don't see me going on about it," Harrison replied.

The hat chuckled. "You have a fine mind. Ambitious like your mother, mischievous like your father. Inquisitive like your friend. But where to put you?"

"With Hermione would be great. I've never been about to talk to anyone like I can to her. Not even to my brother."

"Loyalty, eh? That's more of a Hufflepuff quality."

"Well, I can't be loyal to her if I'm in Hufflepuff can I?"

"True, true. Alright, far be it from me to separate young love when you're so sure about it."

"Love? I wouldn't call it that."

"Really? I would."

"But-"

"Too late! GRYFFINDOR!"

Harrison shook his head as the hat was removed from his head. He moved to the cheering table and moved towards Hermione who flung her arms around him enthusiastically.

"I'm so glad we'll be together!" she enthused.

Harrison couldn't help but hug her back. "Me too."

They took their seats, and Harrison leaned in towards Hermione to whisper in her ear.

"What did you say to McGonagall?" he asked.

She turned to him and put her mouth beside his ear. "Just that you preferred the name your adoptive mother gave you and that you weren't ready for people to know who your biological parents were. I may have even pleaded tearfully at one stage."

Harrison couldn't help but whoop with laughter. He swiftly kissed Hermione's cheek. "You're the best Hermione," he declared loudly.

Hermione's cheek hurt from smiling so much. This had been the best day of her young life, and she couldn't wait to write to her parents to tell them that she had a new friend who was possibly the nicest person she'd ever met.

The sorting continued with "Longbottom, Neville" going to "GRYFFINDOR."

Neville looked stunned, and raced towards his seat, only noticing as he was halfway to the table that he'd left the Sorting Hat on his head. He ran it back to Professor McGonagall, smiling sheepishly the whole way.

"Malfoy, Draco" was called up to the stage, and Harrison grimaced as he thought about what the blonde boy's reaction would be to finding out that he'd challenged Harry Potter to a competition with their wands as the winning stake. No doubt Malfoy would be insufferable to get along with, and he could only hope that the pureblood boy wasn't in the same house as him. The hat barely touched Draco's head before yelling "SLYTHERIN".

Once "Weasley, Ronald" was seated at the Gryffindor table, and "Zabini, Blaise" was in Slytherin, the Sorting Hat was put away and the wizard with long white hair and a beard stood, causing the entire Great Hall to go silent.

"Welcome, welcome, to another year at Hogwarts. I'm certain that you are all hungry after your long journey on the Hogwarts Express, but before we begin the feast, there are just a few items that need to be brought to your attention. First, the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds to all students," Dumbledore said.

"Why bother having a forest that's forbidden anyway?" Harrison murmured to Hermione. "That's just asking for trouble."

"Also, the third floor corridor is strictly off limits for those who do not wish to die a painful death," Dumbledore continued

Hermione's eyes widened in horror. "He must be joking."

Harrison shook his head. "I don't think he is. Mental."

"Now, with that said, I have only but to say, tuck in."

Dumbledore gave a wave of his arms, and a feast like the first years had never seen appeared on the table.

Harrison shared a grin with Hermione. "It's freakin' magic," they whispered to each other, before promptly bursting into laughter.

Hermione reached for a plate of vegetables, while Harrison went straight for the chicken wings. While food was being passed from student to student, names were being exchanged, as well as their upbringings.

"I'm half-and-half," the Irish boy Seamus Finnegan said. "Dad's a muggle, mam's a witch. Bit of a surprise when he found out."

"I could be half, but I never met my dad. Mum's muggle though. What about you Harrison?" Dean Thomas asked.

"Well, my mum's not a witch, but my aunt was. Dad was definitely a wizard but I don't know how far back he went," Harrison said.

"So, half, technically," Ronald Weasley said. "My family's pure, but my dad says it's mostly by accident that we stayed that way."

"I'm Pureblood, too," Neville said shyly.

"My parents are both muggles," Hermione added. "They had no idea that magic even existed until I got my letter."

"I'm pureblood as well," Lavender Brown said.

"So's my family," Parvati Patil said. "But my sister and I are the first to attend Hogwarts. My father went to Durmstrang, and my mother went to a magic school in India."

"Is it unusual for siblings to be sorted into different houses?" Hermione asked.

"It's not unusual, but most siblings are sorted in together. The Weasley's have all been Gryffindors for generations," Ron said.

"Say, Harrison, what happened during the sorting, anyway?" Dean asked. "You were sorted after Hermione here, but your last name is Evans."

"Bit of a mix-up with names. When mum got divorced, she and my brother and I changed our name back to Evans in the Muggle world, but not in the wizarding world. On the register, my dad's last name still appears, but I've never used it. I've legally been an Evans since I was five," Harrison explained, managing not to lie even as he omitted several key points of information.

The newest Gryffindors all accepted his explanation and Hermione squeezed his hand, causing Harrison to smile at her and squeeze back.

"It's too bad Harry Potter didn't show up after all that hype," Ron said. "I was looking forward to meeting him."

"I'm still not too sure how this Boy-Who-Lived business could really be true," Dean said. "I mean, a baby defeats the darkest Wizard of the time while he's still in nappies. Doesn't that seem a little weird to anyone else?"

"Sounds weird to me too, Dean," Harrison said. "I mean, for all we know, it might have been his parents who actually did away with this Dark Lord guy. Maybe the Potter's took him out with them."

"No way, mate," Ron said emphatically. "Everyone agrees, Harry Potter is the one who did away with You-Know-Who."

"I Know Who, who?" Harrison asked.

"You know...the Dark Lord," Ron said.

"No one says his name," Hermione explained. "It isn't even written in any of the history books."

"You're kidding? You mean that a baby kills this Dark Lord, and people are still too afraid to say his name? I'm sorry, but that's just pathetic. He's dead, isn't he? He can't do any more harm, and being afraid of his name just seems really stupid."

Silence followed this statement, and Harrison couldn't help but wonder how on earth the wizarding world could see him as a saviour when, for all he knew, his parents really had been the ones to destroy the Dark Lord.

"Well, how do you explain the scar?" Ron asked.

"He could have got that falling out of his crib," Harrison said. "Or from accidentally hitting his head on a chair. Just because a kid has a scar, doesn't make him the saviour of the wizarding world."

Ron's eyes narrowed. "What do you have against him, huh?"

"Nothing," Harrison replied, putting his hands up in a show of surrender. "I just think that you're putting a lot of faith into some kid who's our age. I mean, what did you expect him to really be like anyway? Some powerful wizard?"

"Of course he'd be powerful," Ron replied. "He destroyed the Dark Lord."

"He might just be a regular wizard," Hermione said. "Just a boy, a student like us. Can you imagine the pressure of having a title like the Boy-Who-Lived. It'd be a constant reminder that his parents had died. It's not a very good title."

Ron focused his glare on her. "You wouldn't understand," he accused. "You didn't grow up hearing about him. How he saved our world from darkness. We grew up on stories about Harry Potter and how he fought the Dark Lord. He means a lot to us wizarding kids."

"He's still just eleven," Neville interjected. As everyone turned to look at him, he blushed bright red and began studying his food intensely.

Hermione shrugged. "Well, I just hope you're not disappointed if he turns out to be just like us. Eleven years old and trying to find a place in the world."

Ron scoffed. "He's Harry Potter. He's nothing like us."

Harrison and Hermione shared a look and sighed. Harrison was doubly grateful to his friend now. He could only imagine what sort of expectation would be thrust upon him were he to be revealed as this famed Boy-Who-Lived. He wasn't a saviour of anyone or anything. He was just Harrison Evans, brother and son, and now friend. Fame wasn't on his list of things to do.

As Harrison spooned a lump of mashed potatoes into his mouth, he felt a sharp pain pierce his forehead, and in the surprise of the moment began to choke. Hermione slapped his back a few times to no avail. Red-faced and gasping for air, Harry felt the pain in his forehead abate, and then a pair of strong arms went around his chest and squeezed. The lump of potatoes flew from his throat and onto his plate, and he breathed deeply for a moment before turning to his rescuer.

A pair of twin red head boys, who looked about thirteen, were staring at him with deep concern.

"Alright, mate?" the one on the left asked.

"We were right worried," the one on the right added.

"And left concerned," the left twin finished.

Harrison took a sip of water and took another deep breath. "Yeah, I think I'm alright. Thanks guys."

"Fred and George Weasley at your service," the left twin introduced. "Ickle Ronnikins here is our youngest brother."

Ron immediately turned red at the hated nickname and subsequent snickering from his fellow first years.

"I'm Harrison Evans," he said, shaking each twins' hand. "Thanks, I really mean that."

The twins wandered back to their seats, and Harrison shook his head in silent disbelief. Hermione turned to him, concern shining in her eyes.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah. I just...felt this weird stabbing pain in my head, and then I swallowed wrong," Harrison explained.

"Stabbing?" Hermione asked. "Where?"

Harrison traced the shape of a lightning bolt in precise location of his covered scar and Hermione couldn't help wonder curiously what it meant. Being the only person who knew what Harrison's bandana hid was no easy task, and she wasn't very well informed about what exactly the scar on Harrison's forehead meant. She resolved to head to the library as soon as she could to research curse scars and their effects on people years after the scars had healed.

Dinner continued, but the subject of Harry Potter was left alone, and finally the evening drew to a conclusion. The students were lead towards their dorms by the fifth-year prefects, and the new members of Hogwarts were astounded by the sheer enormity of the castle. It would be a labyrinth to try and navigate, and with moving staircases it would be near impossible to remember every classroom and corridor.

The Gryffindor common room was decorated in red and gold, and the fifth year prefects, Percy Weasley and Lucinda Reynolds gave them a quick briefing on where their dorm rooms were located. The boys headed up to the right, and the girls headed to the left. Harrison grabbed Hermione's sleeve.

"Wanna meet tomorrow morning to explore?" he asked.

Hermione nodded eagerly. "Breakfast starts at seven, but classes aren't until eight-thirty. Shall we meet at ten to seven, have breakfast and then go for a wander?"

"Sounds great. We should bring our stuff for the first class, though, we don't want to be late," Harrison said.

Hermione certainly didn't want to be late, and she was thrilled that her new friend had the same attitude.

"Alright. I'll meet you down here tomorrow morning then. Good night Harrison."

"Night Hermione."

He flashed a grin and bolted up the stairs, leaving Hermione to stare after him in bewilderment. Her first day at a new school, and already she'd met a kindred spirit. It was nearly too good to be true. She couldn't wait to write a letter home to her parents telling them all about Hogwarts.

And about Harrison.

0000000000000

A/N: I admit to not looking up Aladdin before using that quite. Let's just pus everything back a little, and make their first year begin in 1993 to make it work. Yes? Good.

Thanks again for all your reviews. I'm glad you're enjoying this take on the First Year at Hogwarts.


	3. The First Day

Many thanks to everyone who has reviewed! You guys are great! Amazing how a little feedback can change the coming chapters (and some stuff in the previous ones).

Just to clarify; _all_ the teachers know that Harrison is Harry Potter. Except Hagrid for some reason.

**THREE: THE FIRST DAY**

Hermione was waiting nervously in the Gryffindor common room at six forty-five, tapping her foot impatiently. It wasn't that she didn't trust Harrison to show up, it was that she'd never had anyone her own age be truthful to her before. Her peers at previous schools had made a mockery of her, using her to get ahead in assignments, pretending to be her friend, only to promptly ignore her after they'd got what they'd needed. She didn't think Harrison was like that, but, there was every possibility that he would let her down.

Thundering footsteps came racing down the staircase, and Harrison jumped the last three steps to land with knees bent. Hermione noticed that true to his word, he was wearing a red bandana.

"Morning Hermione," he greeted enthusiastically. "How did you sleep?"

"Better than the night before last, but not as well as I usually do. I was too excited to sleep," Hermione replied. "You?"

"Same! I just can't believe we're about to go to class to learn freakin' magic! What do you think we'll learn first?" he asked as they headed out of the back of the portrait that swung open like a door.

"Well, Transfiguration is first thing this morning, and if Professor McGonagall teaches from the first chapter, then it'll be learning the laws of Transfiguration, and then we start learning very basic spells. Turning matches into needles and spoons into forks and the like. Next year we'll start turning beetles into buttons," Hermione explained.

"That seems really...cruel, almost," Harrison said. "I don't know if I like the idea of turning a living creature into a button."

"It does seem rather unnecessary. Although according to the laws of Transfiguration, if you turn a living creature into an inanimate object, it will eventually retake its former shape. So, the spell does wear off."

"Then why bother?" Harrison asked. "Why not turn a rock into a button if you need one so badly? And if you really needed a button, then go and buy one."

Hermione laughed lightly as they made their way down the stairs that lead directly into the Great Hall. They made their way in through the double doors and took a seat at the Gryffindor table. The hall was practically deserted, with only four other students seated at the other house tables.

"I take it most witches and wizards aren't morning people, then?" Harrison asked. The table was set buffet style, with plates of toast, bowls of cereal, porridge, eggs and bacon as well as an assortment of jams and spreads. Harrison immediately grabbed several slices of toast and slathered them in butter. He added a few rashers of bacon, smothered the concoction in tomato sauce and took a massive bite.

Hermione shook her head in consternation. She'd never eaten breakfast with a boy her own age, and she had to admit, she didn't know how she'd get through the morning if she had to watch Harrison eat. She tried her best to ignore him, and spread strawberry jam across a slice of toast, and daintily biting off the corner.

"First day of class after nearly two months of break, people are bound to be slow to rise this morning," Hermione explained. "Plus a lot of wizarding kids are home-schooled, so getting used to structured classes is something of a shock."

Harrison swallowed hastily before asking "how on earth do you know that?"

"I read about it in Hogwarts: A History," Hermione replied, relieved that at least Harrison hadn't spoken with his mouth full. "It's in the chapter on education prior to Hogwarts classes. There's no formal school for witches and wizards until we're eleven. On the upside, I've had a year to read through all the texts. Hopefully that might give me a better understanding on some of the theory behind the spells."

"Wicked! You'll help me if I'm completely bollocks, won't you?"

"Of course I will. You won't be though. It's in your blood."

Harrison screwed up his nose. "I don't believe in all that blood stuff. You're going to be an amazing witch, and you said there's no one with magic in your family. It's a load of tripe."

"Maybe. In any case, I have to make sure you do well in classes, don't I? I don't want to watch you give your wand to Malfoy."

Harrison snickered. "You won't. I'll win, and then frame his wand and hang it above my bed."

Hermione shook her head in despair. "Honestly Harrison, it was a really stupid bet."

"I know. He just rubs me the wrong way, you know? I knew a kid back home who was exactly the same, and the only way to get him to shut up was to make sure he knew you weren't afraid of him. Or his father, who was the mayor," Harrison explained. "Malfoy just screams 'privileged snob' from his shiny, shiny hair to his shiny, shiny shoes."

"He does seem rather stuck up," Hermione conceded. "Anyway, I suppose there's not much to be done about it now. You made the bet; we'll just have to make sure that you win it."

Harrison smiled gratefully. "Thanks Hermione."

"You're welcome," she replied. She noticed that Harrison had slowed down in his eating and was sitting back in his seat in a manner that reminded her of her father after Christmas dinner. She was surprised that Harry hadn't had to unbutton his trousers to make room for more.

"Finished?" she asked.

Harrison looked longingly at the stack of bacon in the middle of the table. It wasn't usually breakfast fare at home, except on extremely special occasions, and he would always gorge himself on the delightfully greasy meat whenever he had the chance. Deciding that he couldn't eat another bite without potentially exploding, he nodded and pushed himself away from the table.

"Where to then?" he asked.

"Well, I'd really love to see the library," Hermione said. "If it's anything like Hogwarts: A History says it is, it should be one of the biggest libraries in the world."

Harrison nodded compliantly. "Alright then, milday, lead on."

Hermione tried to hold in the giggle at his playfulness, but barely kept it to a quiet chuckle. She led them away from the Great Hall and up two levels, before traversing a corridor and heading up another flight of stairs.

"Did you memorise a map?" Harrison asked.

Hermione nodded, slightly sheepish. "I didn't want to get lost. And I couldn't sleep last night, so I figured that at least I'd know my way around today if nothing else."

"Good plan. I ended up reading my potions textbook. Put me right to sleep," he said.

"Potions looks really interesting though," Hermione said. "A little like chemistry."

"Uh, we never really got to do chemistry at my old school. I thought it looked a bit like a cooking class. You know, add this, stir that, wait ten minutes, bring to the boil. Looks pretty straight forward, really."

"I doubt it will be as easy as it seems," Hermione said. "I think learning about the ingredients will be the hardest part."

"But there's a lot of crossover with Herbology isn't there?" he asked.

"A lot of the plants can be used for potions, so that will be useful," Hermione replied. She pointed to a large door with the word 'Library' inscribed above the door. "I think Herbology is probably going to be-"

She stopped mid-sentence, staring in wide-eyed wonder at the library as they entered. Her jaw dropped at the sheer volume of books that lined the aisles. She had a feeling that she would be spending a lot of time in the archives over the coming years.

"I don't think seven years will be enough time in here," she whispered reverently.

Harrison couldn't help but laugh. "You know, you will have to leave to go to class sometimes."

"Still...imagine how much knowledge is in here. How many witches and wizards have passed on their magic through the ages. You can almost feel it in the air."

Harrison couldn't feel it, but he wasn't about to do anything to put a damper on Hermione's excitement. He'd never seen anyone get so worked up over books. The only reaction he could compare it to was when Dudley had been presented with a birthday cake made solely for him. His eyes had been bigger than his stomach.

"Harrison, I think I've died and gone to heaven."

They wandered down the first of the aisles, browsing books on alchemy, astrology, anthropomorphics and animagus'. Hermione trailed her fingers across the spines of the books, lovingly caressing each title as she moved further down the line in botany, bestiaries and biographies.

"Look at this one, Harrison," Hermione exclaimed, pulling out the heavy tome. She flipped the book to read the blurb on the back cover. "_The Life and Times of Albus Dumbledore. __Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark __wizard Grindelwald__ in 1945, for the discovery of the __twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel.__ Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling._"

Harrison snorted with laughter. "I can't imagine old Dumbledore bowling, can you?"

"Not in the least. Daddy owns a pair of bowling shoes, and they are hideous. And the shirts are even worse."

"I wonder what team Dumbledore plays for," Harrison said. "Slythin's Strikers."

"Gryffindor's Gutters," Hermione suggested. "Or Ravenclaw's Rollers."

Hermione replaced the book and they continued wandering the aisle.

"I wonder how many books we're allowed to borrow at a time," Hermione pondered.

"Well, if all else fails, you borrow to the limit, and then I'll just put the rest under my name," Harrison said.

"You'd do that?"

"Of course! I'll barely be able to finish reading one while you finish six or seven."

"I just love reading. If I could read all day I absolutely would."

"Well...so long as you don't just stay in the library all day. There's still a lot of this castle left to explore, and I don't want to get lost. I need you to keep me on track."

Hermione pulled her attention away from the latest book and focused on Harrison. "I wouldn't spend _all_ day in here."

"Yes you would. Just don't forget about me, huh?"

"I couldn't," she replied sincerely. "Not a chance."

Harrison glanced down at his watch and tapped it to get Hermione's attention.

"Transfiguration starts in ten minutes. We need to get going."

Hermione reluctantly replaced her book and followed Harrison out of the stacks and towards the door.

"We'll come back after classes, how's that?" Harrison suggested.

"I was hoping you'd say that," Hermione replied. "I promise that I won't spend all night in there."

"Don't worry, I wouldn't let you forget about dinner."

Hermione steered them down the hall and down one flight of stairs. Three corridors later, she pointed to a classroom that was already half full of Gryffindors and Slytherins. Hermione lead them to a table in the front row and they put their bags over the backs of the chairs.

"Morning guys," Harrison greeted Dean and Seamus, who were seated behind them.

"Morning Harry, Hermione," Seamus said.

"Hiya," Dean added.

"Uh...I hate to be picky, but, please...I really don't like being called Harry," Harrison said. "You can call me Harris if you really want, but please not Harry."

"Yeah, of course. Sorry, Harris," Seamus said. "I don't blame you, not after hearing about Harry Potter and all. The last thing you'd need would be a reminder of him."

"So, where're Ron and Neville?" Hermione asked, swiftly changing what could become an uncomfortable topic.

"Ron was eating enough food to feed an army last I saw him, and Neville forgot his Transfiguration text, so he ran back up to the dorm to get it," Dean said. "What about the other girls?"

Hermione shrugged. "They were still asleep when I left this morning, but that was at twenty to seven, so...I'm not sure. You didn't see them at breakfast?"

"We went and had breakfast early so we could explore a little," Seamus said.

"So did we," Harrison replied. "We found the library, and it is massive. Where did you guys get to?"

"We went down to the Quidditch Pitch outside, and went by the Greenhouses after that. This place is amazing," Dean enthused.

"Quidditch?" Harrison queried.

"It's a wizarding sport," Dean replied. "Looks right complicated. Like basketball and soccer played on broomsticks with four different balls that do different things."

Harrison pondered the explanation for a moment, trying to visualise what Dean meant. "Weird. Probably easier to visualise if I saw a game."

"Games won't start until after October," Seamus said. "Gives the houses time to hold tryouts and to practice. It's a pity first years aren't allowed to have brooms. I'd love to tryout for Quidditch."

Harrison leaned in to whisper in Hermione's ear. "I think I missed the part about flying broomsticks during Wizarding 101. Freakin' magic!"

Hermione giggled happily at her friend, but stopped a Professor McGonagall entered the room. A quick glance at the empty seats told her that Ron and Malfoy were the only ones missing. Her dorm mates had taken seats in the back, and Neville was sitting by himself at the table to Hermione's left.

"Alright everyone, take your seats, please. Now, I'm sure all of you have read the introductions to your textbooks and have given yourselves an idea of what Transfigurations is all about," McGonagall started.

Hermione was nodding in agreement, but from the corner of her eye, she could see a few people shaking their heads. She nearly gasped in shock at the idea of turning up for class with no idea of what was to be taught. Unbelievable.

"For those of you who are unprepared, let me strongly suggest that you read ahead in future. Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

The warning served to make the entire class sit up at full attention. That attention was broken at the sound of the doors opening and two obnoxiously loud first years entering the classroom.

"When my father hears about this-" Malfoy's voice was booming as he walked into the room, yelling at a red-faced Ron Weasley, who looked angry enough to start a fist fight.

"Your father will be heartily disappointed that his only son could not even make it to his first lesson on time, Mr Malfoy," McGonagall finished for him. "Now, you and Mr Weasley will have the pleasure of joining me this evening in detention. Until such time, you will take your seats, and keep your mouths shut."

Ron managed to turn an even brighter shade of red, and took the empty seat beside Neville. Malfoy unhappily sat beside a female Slytherin who Hermione thought was named Pansy Parkinson.

"As I was saying, Transfiguration is extremely complex. It is not just the ability to transform one object into another, though that is its core role in our world. Transfiguration is a vast and wondrous topic that will be studied for the next seven years, and you will do well to pay attention, Mister Goyle."

The students all turned around to stare at the Slytherin student Gregory Goyle who blinked his eyes open after trying to take a nap.

Harrison was mightily impressed with the Deputy Headmistress. At his old school there hadn't been too many teachers who would have cared if anyone was taking a nap. He could see that McGonagall would be a strict teacher, but he hoped that she would be a fair one as well.

The lesson continued for the next hour, with the students taking a copious amount of notes as Professor McGonagall lectured them on how Transfiguration worked, and how to effectively transfigure one item into another. At the end of the first period, McGonagall allowed them a five minute break to stretch their legs and talk amongst themselves.

The second half of the lesson was more practical, with the students attempting to turn match sticks into needles. McGonagall wandered the room giving advice to student, and praising efforts as some matchsticks turned silver, or acquired a pointy tip. An hour and a quarter into the second half of the lesson, Hermione had managed to perform her transfiguration flawlessly, and was attempting to help Harrison perfect his own technique.

"Loosen your hold on your wand," she whispered softly. "You don't need to have a death grip on it."

Harrison forced his hand to unclench.

"Now, take a deep breath, and relax. You can do this, Harrison. You're freakin' magic, remember?"

Harrison grinned.

"So, try again, but this time, keep your eyes closed. Focus on the reality of a needle; picture its size, its shape, the tip of its point, the eye of the needle. Now, lower your wand clockwise above it, and remember to breathe."

He did as instructed, and then opened his eyes. There on his desk was the needle that Hermione had told him to visualise. He gave a wordless cry of triumph and hugged Hermione enthusiastically. McGonagall walked over to their desk, summoned by Harrison's excitement.

"Well done, both of you," she praised. "Five points each to Gryffindor."

Harrison held out his hand for a high five, and Hermione looked at him quizzically.

"Come on, high five," he explained.

Hermione hesitated, but eventually slapped her palm weakly against his. He groaned and shook his head.

"A little enthusiasm, please," he begged. He held up his hand again, and Hermione hit it harder, drawing a few stares at the sound of the single clap in the room. Her cheeks flushed at the attention, but McGonagall's voice brought everyone back to focus as she gave out the homework assignment for the evening.

A collective groan rose up from the first years at the thought of homework on the first day of school. Hermione was quietly excited, she hadn't been expecting any work, but she was looking forward to getting right into it.

Professor McGonagall quickly dismissed them as the class came to an end, and the excited first years made their way to lunch in the Great Hall.

"That was such a great lesson," Hermione commented as they made their way down a set of moving stairs. "I think I'm going to like Professor McGonagall."

"She does seem like a good teacher," Harrison agreed. "And you got house points already."

"_We_ got house points."

"Because you taught me to transfigure the match," Harrison argued. "So really, you got house points."

"Agree to disagree?" she asked.

"Done," Harrison replied.

They entered the Great Hall and made their way to the end of the Gryffindor table, selecting seats and grabbing plates and bowls from the centre of the table.

The food was every bit as tasty as it had been the previous evening, and Harrison found that he was famished. Even after eating a full breakfast, he was hungrier than usual. Hermione, too, found that she wanted more food than was normal for her.

"I wonder if it's the magic," Hermione theorised, ladling some soup into a bowl, and grabbing a bread roll from the basket in the middle of the table. "Maybe it's doing something to our metabolism."

"I'm going to be huge if I keep eating like this though," Harrison complained. "Mum would kill me if she saw me stuffing myself at home."

"Well, maybe the trick will be smaller portions more often," Hermione said. "We should take some fruit to snack on between lessons."

Harrison liked the suggestion and grabbed an apple and an orange, slipping them into his satchel. Hermione picked a banana and two mandarins for herself.

After lunch, the first year Gryffindors made their way to out of the castle and across the grounds to the greenhouses for Herbology with Professor Sprout.

Harrison spotted the large goal posts on the other side of the lawns. "Hey, that must be the Quidditch pitch the boys were on about this morning. It looks interesting."

Hermione looked up at the goal posts, stunned at how high they were. "When they said it was played on broomsticks, I imagined it was a lot lower. That can't be safe."

"Flying on broomsticks can't be safe either, but we have our first lesson next week."

Hermione paled significantly. "Harrison, I don't like heights at all. Mum and dad tried getting me to the top of Victoria Tower when I was younger, but I panicked before we even got into the elevator."

Harrison scratched the back of his neck thoughtfully. "Well, it can't be _that_ dangerous if they're going to let a bunch of eleven year olds learn to fly. I can't see them letting us do something that could kill us."

Hermione wasn't convinced by that argument, but tried to put it from her mind by turning her back on the Quidditch pitch. They followed the rest of the Gryffindors up to the greenhouse, where they were met with the first year Hufflepuffs. The two groups cautiously exchanged greetings, names and handshakes, before settling at the workbenches, mostly still within their house groups.

Each table was equipped for four students, and Harrison and Hermione were joined by Neville Longbottom and Ron Weasley.

Hermione couldn't help but scold Ron for the incident earlier in the morning. "How could you possibly have been late for the very first lesson on the very first day," Hermione reprimanded him.

Ron's ears turned a bright shade of red and he narrowed his eyes into a glare.

"I got lost," he defended himself.

"With Draco Malfoy?" Hermione asked.

"Not _with_ Malfoy," Ron yelped. "I was trying to find the classroom, and then Malfoy showed up, and then he started in on my family. So, I shoved him away, and then he went on about how his father was best mates with the Minister of Magic, and how his father could get my father fired from his job. I told him to stuff it, and then...well, you heard the rest."

Harrison found himself to be quiet sympathetic to Ron's plight, though he agreed that the redhead could have made more of an effort to be on time. Arguing with Malfoy, however, he could perfectly understand.

"He's a creepy git," Ron muttered.

"Agreed," Harrison said

"He may well be, but that doesn't make it alright to be late. Next time, you should just ignore him, and get yourself to class," Hermione said.

Ron rolled his eyes, but before he could prepare an angry retort, Professor Sprout waddled into the greenhouse and came to stand in front of the class.

"Welcome to Herbology first years. I am Professor Sprout, and I will be teaching you all for at least the next three years. Now, Herbology is not only a practical class, wherein we well be taking care of the various plants that we will learn about, but also a highly theoretical class, where we will learn about the various uses for the various leaves, vines, flowers and stems of both magical and mundane botany. You will find that a good foundation in Herbology will serve you well in Potions, where there is less of a focus on what the properties of various ingredients are. That is what Herbology is for. So, for all you budding Potion Masters, be sure to pay strict attention."

Hermione's attention couldn't have been torn away from the Professor, even if someone had set off an explosion behind her.

Herbology would probably be one of the most important subjects that they would have, and seeing as how it appeared on their timetable three times a week, Hermione could see it being one of the lessons that would need constant attention.

Professor Sprout began with the basics of Herbology, lecturing the students on the importance of first identifying a plant before handling it, as each plant would react differently, and could be quite dangerous or poisonous if handled incorrectly. For homework, they were assigned a six inch essay on the appropriate care and handling of three different types of fungi.

The first day of classes came to an end, and Harrison and Hermione found themselves detouring around the lawns as they slowly made their way back up to the castle.

"Herbology seems fascinating," Hermione commented.

"I don't know if it's interesting enough to have three times a week though," Harrison complained.

Hermione laughed softly. "They're the shortest lessons we have though. No doubles for Herbology. And we don't have it again until Wednesday morning."

"I'm looking forward to Defence Against the Dark Arts," Harrison said. "I was looking over the text book and it seems really exciting. DADA, Charms and Transfigurations have the most wand work of all the classes."

"Well, magic isn't all about wands," Hermione reminded him. "But, I have to admit, I'm looking forward to wand work as well."

"It's weird that we need wands," Harrison commented. "I mean, you summoned a book when you were four years old, and I-"

Hermione looked at him eagerly. "You never did say what your first 'magical mishap' was. Tell me?"

Harrison rolled his eyes. "I made my first grade teachers wig disappear."

Hermione tried to stifle her giggles, but it was impossible to keep them contained. "Harrison, that's awful!"

"But funny, you have to admit. And it was an accident. I didn't mean to do it. She was having a go at Dudley for not having done his homework, but he'd been in hospital, and she wouldn't listen when I tried to tell her. Dud was really embarrassed, so...I remember thinking that I wish I could embarrass her, and...well, poof! Her wig was gone, and she had about as much hair as I do. It took me ages to work out that it'd been me who made it happen."

That set Hermione off once more into a fit of giggles that she tried to control.

"What else?" she asked.

"Mum's ex-husband's sister once gave me this hideous jumper for Christmas," Harrison began. He watched as Hermione tried following the train of people until she worked out who he meant. "It was awful, it had lace on it and everything. Anyway, there was no bloody way I was wearing it, so I just stared at it and stared at it, and then it started shrinking. Marge, Vernon's sister, she tried pulling it over my head, but it wouldn't fit. Eventually she decided that I must have a huge head, and that it was my own fault for being so chubby."

Hermione gasped in disbelief. Firstly that anyone could think Harrison was chubby when he was entirely skin and bones, and secondly that anyone could be so cruel as to say that to a child.

"I should also mention that Marge is about as big as a house, so her calling anyone chubby is the pot calling the kettle black."

"That's horrible."

"No, horrible is that Dud still has to see her, because he's her nephy-poo, as she calls him. He...well, I wouldn't use the word hate, but it would come pretty close. Dud and his dad barely see each other as it is, so having to deal with Marge on every other visit just makes things worse. I'm not blood related to them, thank god, so I get to stay home."

"Are Dudley and his dad close?"

Harrison shook his head. "Not even a little. Mum won't tell me exactly what happened, but I know that he had a fit about something or other after Dudley was diagnosed. Vernon didn't want to try some sort of experimental treatment, but mum was all for it. Mum insisted, said that she wouldn't risk Dudley's life just because Vernon was too stupid to try something different. Whatever it was worked, but Vernon never forgave mum for giving the go ahead to the doctor's. They just fell apart after that."

Hermione sighed softly, her eyes soft and compassionate. "I can't believe he wouldn't even try something different. I know some of the experimental treatments can seem frightening, especially when they're still in their initial stages, but to deny it out of hand, especially when Dudley's life was at risk just seems...stupid."

"It was stupid," Harrison said. "Anyway, Dudley got a lot better after that, but things at home got worse. Mum and Vernon were fighting constantly, and he wanted me gone because they were already having trouble financially. Having me was a 'useless burden they'd never asked for'."

Harrison was startled when Hermione burst into tears and hugged him fiercely. She clung to him, shaking violently, and Harrison could only stare into her overwhelmingly bushy hair in bewilderment. He rubbed her back softly until she'd calmed enough to let go of him.

"You're not useless," she whispered emphatically, wiping tears from her cheeks. "Or a burden."

Harrison felt tears in his own eyes. He was surprised by how good it felt to hear his friend say that. He'd often blamed himself for his mum's divorce, though she'd told him plenty of times that she and Vernon had been heading that way for a while, and that it'd been nothing to do with Harrison himself.

"D'you know that the reason I hate being called Harry is because that's what Vernon calls me," Harrison confessed softly. "He turned it into such an insult. Mum had my name legally changed, and she said that she chose 'Harrison' because it has 'son' in it, and that's what I was to her. So, hearing Vernon call me just 'Harry' was like he was denying what mum was to me."

Hermione wiped away more tears at the explanation, and vowed to never slip and call him 'Harry'. She couldn't believe how cruel Harrison's uncle had been to him. She could only be grateful that his mum had eliminated the problem by divorcing Vernon and keeping Harrison as part of the family.

"I'd do anything for mum and Dud," Harrison continued quietly. "Absolutely anything. And if I can heal him, then that's what I'm going to do. Even if it takes me seven years to learn whatever spells I have to learn."

Hermione was impressed by his determination. "Whatever it takes Harrison, I'll be with you. I'll do whatever I can to help."

Harrison slung his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. There was nothing he could possibly say to express the gratitude he felt for her right then. He just knew that he would never let anyone or anything hurt her as long as he was around to stop it.

0000000000

A/N: Thanks again for your reviews!


	4. The Potions Class

Many thanks for all the great reviews!

**FOUR: THE POTIONS CLASS**

Friday could not have come quickly enough for the Hogwarts students, and Harrison was especially looking forward to the day, as it was their first Potions lesson, and a double at that. To make it an even better day, they had the period after lunch off, and so would begin their weekend a little early.

"Do you think we'll get a chance to brew anything today?" Hermione asked eagerly as they made their way down several flights of stairs to get to the dungeons where Potions was held.

Harrison shrugged, but gave a hopeful nod. "So far we've done something practical in each of our other lessons," Harrison reminded her. "I hope we get to make a potion, that'd be really cool."

"Did you read through the first few chapters like I told you?" Hermione asked.

Harrison nodded. "It was fairly pretty interesting. I only made it through to chapter six though."

"I was reading through a few of the upper year texts, and it seems as though there's a potion for practically everything," Hermione said enthusiastically. "Blood-replenishing, Dreamless Sleeping, Bone Re-growing, Truth Serum...there's even a potion that can make you look like someone else."

Harrison held his hand out to Hermione, and she slapped it enthusiastically. After nearly a week of Harrison using the gesture to show his excitement, Hermione had given up on trying to ignore his prompts for high or low fives.

"Freakin' magic!" Harrison cried. "Can you imagine if I made myself look like Malfoy, and then went streaking around Hogwarts. It'd be fantastic!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes, peering at her friend sternly. "Honestly," she huffed, exasperated. "That's completely inappropriate."

Harrison shrugged unrepentantly, and Hermione finally smiled.

"You'd have to at least put on a pair of briefs," she compromised. "I don't want to see Malfoy's dangly bits, and I can guarantee you that no one else would want to either."

"But that's half the fun," Harrison protested.

Hermione shook her head. "Anyway, I really think that Potions may be the most useful of all our subjects. In the long run, Potions seems to have the most diverse use. And if you're going to find anything to help your brother, I'd say that it'll be potions where you'll find it."

"Do you really think so?"

"Absolutely. There're more healing potions than almost any other type. It may be worth asking Professor Snape if he knows about healing, or if it's even possible."

Harrison was cheered by the idea, and he quickly agreed to approach Professor Snape at the end of the lesson. They'd heard horror stories about Snape from the older students of Gryffindor, especially from Fred and George Weasley. The twins had warned them that they shouldn't expect for Snape to be a fair teacher at all, especially towards Gryffindor. As head of Slytherin House, Snape tended to favour his own students, and had _never_, to the twins' knowledge, awarded points to Gryffindor.

They entered the classroom, each of them grateful for their long cloaks, as the room was extremely cold. Potions was another class that they were sharing with the Slytherins, and Harrison managed to mostly ignore Draco Malfoy except to glare at the blonde boy. They found a seat in the front row and settled in to wait for the rest of their class, and Professor Snape, to arrive.

Hermione was glad to see Ron dash into the room and seat himself on Harrison's other side.

"Morning Ron," Harrison greeted. "Good breakfast?"

"Amazing," Ron enthused. "Pancakes on a Friday! Plus no lessons this arvo. I'm going to love Fridays all the more."

"Honestly, there's more to life than food," Hermione said.

"Of course there is," Ron agreed. "There's Quidditch too."

Harrison snickered at Hermione's aghast expression, but before Hermione could continue to berate Ron, Professor Snape swept into the room, his cloak billowing dramatically behind him.

"Therewill be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. However, for those select few-"

Harrison was left speechless as Professor Snape paused dramatically. The teacher was tall, dark and imposing. He was also a lot younger that Harrison had first thought. If he had to guess, he would say the man was in his early thirties.

"-Who possess the predisposition...I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death."

Hermione shared a glance with Harrison who nodded back at her, silently agreeing that Snape was definitely the person they needed to speak with.

"Who of you has managed to make it past the first chapter of your assigned text?" Snape asked.

The majority of the class put up their hands, though Ron's was conspicuously down, as were Crabbe and Goyle's from Slytherin.

"Astounding. And who has made it past the first five chapters?"

Hermione and Harrison's hands stayed up, along with Draco Malfoy, and Neville Longbottom.

"More than usual. Have any of you four completed the text?"

Hermione's hand stayed standing, while the three boys put theirs down.

"Miss?"

"Granger, sir," Hermione replied. "Hermione Granger."

"Tell me, Miss Granger, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"They're ingredients in the Draught of Living Death, sir," Hermione replied. "But they can also be used in Dreamless Sleeping potions, depending on how long you wish a person to stay asleep for."

Snape nodded sharply, and Harrison watched his expression, which didn't seem to change. It was impossible to tell if he was angry or impressed.

"Mr?" Snape addressed Harrison, and he gulped nervously.

"Evans, sir," Harrison replied.

"Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" Snape asked.

"Oh, uh...a goat's stomach, sir," Harrison answered. He was extremely glad that Snape had asked for something that had been in the first twelve letters of the alphabet. Anything further on than 'm' and Harrison would have been in trouble.

"And what is the difference, Mr Longbottom, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Neville went pale, unused to being called on in class. "T-they're the s-same, sir," he stuttered out.

"And what, Mr Malfoy, is another name by which monkshood and wolfsbane is called?"

Draco opened his mouth to reply, but realised that he didn't know the answer. Harrison ducked his head to hide his grin.

"I – I don't know, sir," Malfoy admitted.

"Are you certain you read the first five chapters, Mr Malfoy?"

"It might have only been four, professor," Malfoy simpered.

"As it is covered in chapter two, I wonder if perhaps you managed to miss the three page section. Mr Evans, the final name?"

"Aconite, sir," Harrison replied.

Snape nodded, and moved to stand in front of the blackboard. Harrison breathed a sigh of relief. He would definitely have to keep up his reading if they were going to be given verbal quizzes every Friday morning.

"And Mr Evans, remove that infernal scarf from your head," Snape snapped. "You are not a pirate."

Harrison flushed, but obediently reached up to pull off his blue bandana. Hermione couldn't help but notice that Snape's eyes seemed to be searching for something on Harrison's revealed skin. Snape almost seemed disappointed by the missing scar. Hermione couldn't help but wonder what the Professor was up to.

The teachers of Hogwarts logically all knew that Harrison Evans was Harry Potter. Harrison's letter had been addressed to Mr H. Potter, and Hermione knew that Professor McGonagall would have announced to the entire Great Hall on their first night that Harrison was the famous Boy-Who-Lived had Hermioe not pleaded with her to announce him as Harrison Evans.

So why was Professor Snape trying to expose Harrison's scar, and thus his birth name, and the famous legacy that went with it? It made very little sense to Hermione, but she made a mental note to bring it up with Harrison later on.

Snape tapped the blackboard with his wand, and a set of instructions appeared on the board. It was a potion to cure boils, and Snape instructed them that they would have the rest of the lesson to brew the potion.

The class scattered, heading to the potions cupboards where the ingredients were stored, and then back to their workbenches, where they attempted to brew the potion in pairs.

Hermione quickly jotted down the instructions in her own notebook, rather than trying to keep looking up at the board. Harrison checked off each of the ingredients as they were added, and Hermione carefully stirred the potion the allotted amount of times, in the correct sequence of turns.

"This is a lot harder than it looks," Harrison commented softly.

Hermione nodded her agreement.

"Alright, take the potion off the fire, and then add three porcupine quills," Hermione instructed.

Harrison carefully lifted the cauldron off the flame, and set it on the bench. He added the three quills, and Hermione flushed with pleasure as the potion turned a brilliant green.

They exchanged a high five, and Hermione put her hand up to summon Professor Snape. Before she could even get the Professors attention, a magnificent explosion rocked the room, and the students ducked for cover beneath tables.

Neville Longbottom and Ron Weasley were covered in their potion, and were quickly breaking out in angry red boils. Professor Snape strode over to them, vanishing the potion, and taking the boys to task for adding the porcupine quills before taking the potion off the flames.

"Idiot boys," Snape sneered.

Hermione thought that was quite harsh, however true the statement might have been.

"Alright, let's see if any of you dunderheads has managed to brew a potion that will cure these two. Though if it kills them, I will deduct points."

Harrison couldn't quite tell if he was joking, the delivery of the line had been completely deadpan. For Ron and Neville's sake, he hoped so.

Snape circled the class, peering into cauldrons, making short comments such as "abysmal" to Crabbe and Goyle, "horrific" to Parvati and Lavender, "mediocre" to Draco Malfoy and his partner Pansy Parkinson.

Snape stopped in front of Harrison and Hermione's cauldron, and he peered at its contents. "Acceptable."

After all the other comments, that seemed like high praise, so Hermione was rather pleased, and Harrison silently cheered.

Snape pulled out two empty vials and filled them with the green potion. He gave each vial to Neville and Ron who dabbed the potion on each of the blistering boils. The class watched in amazement as the boils shrank down to nothing, and Hermione and Harry shared another hand-slap under the table.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for such blatant stupidity," Snape punished Ron and Neville. "And ten points _to_ Gryffindor for their passable potion."

Hermione and Harrison shrugged, not all that upset that Gryffindor hadn't come out of the lesson ahead, but grateful that they'd managed to break even. After listening to the twins talk about Snape, they were grateful to have been given points to bring them back up to an even keel.

Snape assigned a ten-inch essay on the reason Neville and Ron's potion had exploded, with an emphasis on the reactions of ingredients when mixed improperly.

"To those who didn't bother to even open your text books, be aware that I will be verbally quizzing you each and every week for the rest of your lessons in Potions. A wrong answer will lose you two house points. Therefore, it will be up to you to keep your studies up to date."

There was a moment of silence as the students took in the unhappy news.

"Dismissed."

Harrison didn't think he'd ever seen his fellow Gryffindors move so quickly. Classes were officially over for the week, and it was lunch time as well. Ron Weasley was the first out the door.

Hermione lingered with Harrison and they waited until the rest of the students had left the classroom. Harrison nervously approached the Professors desk, clearing his throat slightly to gain Snape's attention.

"Evans," Snape said without looking up. "What do you want?"

Harrison hadn't been expecting the question to be so abrupt, but he supposed that the Professor was a busy man, and he was probably as anxious to get to lunch as Harrison was.

"Sir, I was wondering if you could answer some questions I had. About potions," Harrison was a little stilted in his speech.

"Ask."

"Uh...well, my brother, he's sick. He has leukaemia, and I haven't come across anything so far that says if the magic world has come up with a cure, so, I was wondering if there was. A cure, I mean."

"It is not a disease that wizards have dealt with," Snape replied without looking up.

"Oh. Well...thank you sir."

"Patience, Potter."

"I'm not...I've never used that name, sir," Harrison said.

"Why?" Snape questioned.

Harrison was a little startled by the question, but he wasn't about to refuse to respond to this very cranky man. "My mums' were both Evans' and that's what I've used since I was five, sir. The name Potter doesn't mean anything to me, so I don't really want to use it."

Snape looked up, and Harrison was startled by how dark the Professor's eyes were. He struggled to maintain eye contact, knowing that the Professor was silently evaluating him, and he didn't want to be found lacking.

"So you took your mother's name," Snape concluded. "Just as well. I knew her, in my youth. She had a thirst for knowledge and a passion unrivalled by any of her peers."

"You were friends, sir? W-what was she like?"

"Unforgettable," Snape replied after a moment's pause. Snape looked away from Harrison's bright green eyes, and found Miss Granger waiting to the side. "You say that your brother, who I assume to mean your cousin, has leukaemia. What stage is he in?"

"He's in remission right now," Harrison said. "I'm his perfect match, and the last bone marrow transplant worked really well. His chemo sessions are further apart now, and the doctors are really hopeful. I guess I was really hopeful too."

"There has never been a witch or wizard diagnosed with any type of cancer, and thus, no search for a cure has ever been started," Snape said. "As most witches and wizards have little to do with the muggle world, I'm not sure that it's ever occurred to anyone to begin working on a cure."

"How would I go about trying to find one?" Harrison asked earnestly.

Harrison was startled when the left side of Snape's lips curled into what some would consider an attempt at a smile. "That's exactly what your mother used to say. And I will tell you the same thing I told her. The art of Healing magic is millennia old. There have been very few recent breakthroughs in wizarding medicine or healing in the last hundred or so years. We have ways to counteract most any illness or injury, and thus, we have never worked to 'perfect' any of them. So, in order to cure your 'brother', you will need to know a good deal more about potions, healing, herbology and human physiology before you can even begin."

Harrison had been expecting that answer, but was nonetheless disheartened at the news.

"You are eleven years old," Snape reminded him. "Even the best minds in the healing arts have had to start somewhere. May I suggest you visit the library in the near future and find any available texts on the art of healing the body."

"Thank you Professor," Harrison said softly.

Snape nodded a dismissal, and Harrison and Hermione left quickly and headed towards the Great Hall for lunch.

"That went well," Hermione noted.

"Surprisingly well," Harrison replied. "The twins had me terrified, but, he wasn't so bad. I can't believe he and my birth mum were friends."

"You know what makes it even more unbelievable," Hermione said. "Lily Evans was a Gryffindor, and Professor Snape was a Slytherin. Plus your mum was a first generation witch. It would be a little like me and Draco Malfoy being friends."

Harrison's nose wrinkled at the imagery. He couldn't imagine Draco being kind enough to anyone to be a genuine friend, and the idea of Draco and Hermione hanging out was repulsive.

"Exactly," Hermione said, laughing at Harrison's horrified expression. "Plus, they would have graduated just before the huge break-out of the war when blood-purity was the most important thing anyone was talking about back then. Seeing as Slytherin's tend to pride themselves on being purebloods, can you imagine the kind of taunting a first-gen witch would have got from a Slytherin."

"Do you think he was lying?" Harrison asked. "About them being friends?"

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "I did think it was a little strange that he made you take off your bandana. It was like he wanted you to expose your scar."

"I've been keeping it covered up anyway," Harrison said. "Snape's been the only one to say anything about the bandanas, so I'll have to be particularly careful on Friday's, but...I didn't really think anything of it. It's not part of the uniform, so, really, I've been expecting at least one of the teachers to say something about it."

"Don't you see, Harrison; they think you're trying to hide your scar," Hermione said. "They don't know about you and Dudley wearing colour co-ordinated bandanas, they probably think that you're just hiding your most famous feature."

"Huh," Harrison breathed out, feeling a little idiotic. "I never thought of it that way."

Hermione rolled her eyes and gave him a friendly shove. "Honestly."

Harrison grinned. He'd made a game of seeing how many times a day he could make her say that word. His total for the week was twelve. They entered the Great Hall and headed to the first year section of the Gryffindor table, taking seats next to each other with Ron on Hermione's left and Parvati Patil on Harry's right.

"I wonder if I could get away with wearing a fedora," Harrison joked.

"And then I could call you Indy instead of Harrison," Hermione teased.

He mocked straightening the rim on an invisible fedora and gave it an imaginary tip to Hermione.

"Professor of archaeology, expert on the occult, and how does one say it? Obtainer of rare antiquities," Harrison quoted.

"I love those movies," Hermione said.

"That's one thing I'm really going to miss while we're here," Harrison said. "Friday night movie nights. Dud and I used to make popcorn and then we'd do a marathon of whatever looked good. Star Wars, Indiana Jones, James Bond."

"My dad would love movie night at your place," Hermione commented. "I think there's only so many times he can put up with watching Disney or the Wizard of Oz before he goes completely mad."

Harrison laughed lightly. "Hey, maybe over the holidays we could get together and do a movie night. Your parents could meet mum and you could meet Dud. It'd be great."

Hermione was incredibly pleased with the invitation and nodded enthusiastically. "Sounds fantastic."

Parvati Patil started giggling hysterically as she and Lavender whispered to each other. Harrison raised an eyebrow at them, but it only made the giggling worse. He shrugged and turned back to Hermione.

"I worry when they giggle," he whispered.

Hermione chuckled a little. "They do it all the time in the dorm," she confided. "It's best to ignore them."

Harrison thought that was quite good advice, so he angled his body slightly away from the giggling duo.

"Hey, could we stop by the owlery this afternoon?" Harrison asked. "Only, I've got a letter to send to Dud, and I promised to write at least once a week."

"Of course we can," Hermione confirmed. "I've got my own letter to send too. Mum and dad don't know much about the wizarding world, so I'm making sure to tell them everything."

"Mum thought about buying me an owl, but I wasn't too sure if I'd really need one," Harrison said.

"Well, the school owls are available for everyone, so it really negates the need to own one. I'm surprised that there aren't more cats running around, seeing as they're on the list of approved pets," Hermione said.

"Well, they're pretty high maintenance. With owls, you just send them to the owlery, and with toads you just feed them flies. But with cats you'd have to empty out litter-boxes, and get up early to feed them, and keep them groomed. It's a lot of effort really. Plus, this castle is huge. They'd get lost in a day," Harrison said.

"Good point," Hermione said. "I was thinking of asking my parents for a cat, but I suppose I never thought much more about it then that they're really cute."

Harrison felt a mental light bulb begin to glow in his mind. He made a note to talk to the only older students he knew later that evening when Hermione had gone to bed. He had the perfect idea, and he knew exactly how to go about it.

"Better a cat that a rat. Ron's pet is beyond creepy. I swear to God, it watches me when I'm sleeping," Harrison said dramatically.

Hermione laughed. "Watches you?"

"With its beady little eyes. They glow in the dark, almost. It's scary."

"I'm sure you're just imagining things," Hermione placated.

Harrison shook his head. "No way. I swear, it's plotting ways to kill me. I thought about poisoning its water supply with my contact solution."

"With what?"

"The solution I put my contact lenses in at night," Harrison explained. "One part hydrogen peroxide, one part saline."

Hermione stared at him in shock. "You wear contacts?"

Harrison nodded. "I look geeky with glasses."

Hermione stared at him considerately. She couldn't imagine him with glasses at all. His green eyes were far too unique to be covered up with a pair of glasses.

"Anyway, don't poison anyone's pet Harrison. Even if it _is_ planning to take over the world."

"Does that make him Pinky, or the Brain?"

Hermione just rolled her eyes.

000000

A/N: What was it about 90's that made such a great year of animation? Yes, Pinky and the Brain came out in 1993. I watched it religiously. We're pushing back canon two years so that I can put in all these quotes from cartoons that I grew up with.


	5. The Flying Lesson

Again, many thanks for all your great reviews. I spent most of today re-editing the story, and writing the epilogue. It comes in at a total of about 46,000 words, and 125 pages. There's seventeen chapters in all.

**FIVE: THE FLYING LESSON**

The second week of their first year passed with little excitement. The only high point of the week was on Thursday afternoon when the first years realised that it was time for their first flying lesson. This, of course, caused much excitement among the group, who eagerly shared tales of their flying prowess and made most of the muggleborns fear for their lives.

Hermione was still not convinced that flying on a broom could possibly be safe, and so checked out every single book on the topic that she could get her hands on. She found _Quidditch Through the Ages_ to be particularly useful, but she knew that the reality of flight would be vastly different.

Ron, who'd apparently been flying since he was quite young, sneered at the book in Hermione's hand.

"You won't learn anything with that thing," he pronounced authoritatively.

"It's giving me the theory," Hermione defended.

"Theory of flying?" he teased. "No such thing."

"Oh really? Then what type of magic is it that enchants the brooms? And what spells do they have on them?" Hermione asked.

Ron went bright red, and his mouth flopped open and closed like a flailing fish.

"Who cares about any of that?" he protested. "You won't know how to fly any better."

"Maybe not, but I'll feel a lot safer," Hermione replied.

"The magic behind it is pretty interesting anyway," Harrison defended his friend. "You'd be surprised at how many safety charms are put onto brooms. It'd take seriously powerful magic to strip a broom of its enchantments."

Ron shook his head in disgust. "You two could take the fun out of anything," he said.

Hermione frowned, narrowing her eyes at the red head who jumped back into conversation with the rest of the enthusiastic first years who were comparing flying feats.

"Well, I thought it was interesting," Harrison said with a careless shrug.

"It'd be fun to try to enchant a broom when we're older. See if we could actually do it," Hermione said.

"Maybe they'll let us do it for an assignment when we're in sixth or seventh year."

"Something to look forward to," Hermione enthused.

With lunch finished, the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins headed out to the courtyard where Madam Hooch, the flying instructor, stood between two lines of broomsticks.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" Madam Hooch barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

The students raced to stand beside the school brooms, which Harry had heard the Weasley twins complain about earlier in the week. The twins had said that the brooms would fly shakily at top speed, or that they would veer left when you steered right. From the looks of the brooms, they weren't even slightly impressive.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom, and say 'Up!'" Madam Hooch instructed.

The group followed her instructions, and Harrison was pleased that his own broom jumped straight into his hand. His was the only one, however. Draco Malfoy had to repeat his command, and then his broom was in his hand as well.

Hermione's rolled over on the ground like a disobedient puppy.

Harrison leaned closer to her. "Loosen up, remember," he instructed, reminding Hermione of her own instructions to him in Transfigurations. "Relax, visualise, and try again."

Hermione closed her eyes, took a deep breath and pictured her broom in her hand. "Up!" Her broom jumped into her hand, stinging her palm slightly, but she smiled, pleased that she'd managed to get the broom to respond.

After everyone had managed to get their brooms to fly to their hands, Madam Hooch went around the group giving instructions on the best grips, and how to steer, including how to break and accelerate. It didn't seem all that complicated, but Hermione had broken into a nervous sweat at the thought of taking the broom into the air.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forwards slightly. On my whistle – three – two -"

Hooch didn't get the chance to blow her whistle, as Neville Longbottom accidentally kicked off hard, rising straight up into the air. His face was white with fright, and before Hooch could get onto her own broom to follow him, Neville had fallen – hard – onto the ground.

The group winced as they heard a loud snap. Madam Hooch rushed to Neville and helped him to sit up. He cradled his wrist gingerly, and the flying instructor immediately recognised the break in his arm.

"Broken wrist," Hooch murmured. "Come on, boy, up you get."

Hooch helped Neville to his feet, and then turned to the rest of the group.

"None of you is to move while I take Mr Longbottom to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'."

Hooch escorted Neville towards the building, and the group milled around, breaking off into small groups to chat. Or in the Slytherins' case, to mock Neville Longbottom.

"Did you see his face, the fat lump?" Draco Malfoy sneered.

"Leave off, Malfoy," Harrison glared.

"Ohhh, Evans, a mudblood defending the squib. Scary."

Malfoy spotted something in the grass where Neville had landed, and he reached down to scoop up the small glass ball. Harrison recognised it as the Remembrall that Neville's Gran had sent him earlier at breakfast.

"Give that here, Malfoy," Harrison demanded, holding out his hand to take the ball back.

Malfoy stepped out of Harrison's reach. With broom still in hand, Draco mounted it and began hovering.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find it. How about on the roof?" With that, he shot off like a rocket, and Harrison swung his legs over his own broom.

"Harrison, no!" Hermione yelled fervently. "You'll be expelled."

Harrison considered that thought for a moment, then decided that this was a matter of honour, and he was going after Neville's Remembrall. He took off, and immediately wondered why he'd been worrying. Flying was the simplest thing in the world!

He felt the wind whipping against his face, and the currents of the air as the sun shone down on him. Draco wasn't that far ahead, and Harrison caught up with him easily.

"Give it here Malfoy, or I'll knock you off your broom!" Harrison threatened.

Draco turned, expecting to see Harrison further away, but was startled at how close the Gryffindor was to him. He held up the Remembrall for Harrison to see.

"You really want it that much?" he asked. "Catch it then."

Draco hefted his arm back, and then threw the Rememberall as far as he could. Harrison darted off after it, keeping his eyes on the target, though it was amazingly difficult to see. The Remembrall was about the size of a tennis ball, and completely transparent. The only thing keeping it visible was the glint of sunlight reflecting in the glass. Harrison dove for the ball, and pulled his broom to an abrupt halt as he caught the fragile glass, and then did a hairpin turn, and raced back to the waiting crowd.

The Gryffindor's were cheering at Harrison's capture of the Remembrall while the Slytherins were shaking their heads in dismay.

"HARRISON EVANS!"

Harrison felt his heart fall. That was Professor McGonagall's voice. He darted a look at Hermione, who was white-faced and biting her fingernails nervously.

"Never, in all my time at Hogwarts-" the Professor looked furious, and Harrison knew he was done for. He hadn't even managed to make it two whole weeks at Hogwarts.

"How _dare_ you – might have broken you neck -"

"It wasn't his fault, Professor," Hermione spoke up shakily.

"Be quiet, Miss Granger," the Professor said stiffly. "Evans, follow me."

Harrison was shaking as he followed Professor McGonagall into the castle and through several corridors. He wondered if he was being taken to see Dumbledore before being expelled. He wished he'd listened to Hermione. Catching the Remembrall wasn't really worth getting expelled for, though he was glad it hadn't been broken. But in the grand scheme of things, Neville could have got a new one.

McGonagall came to a stop outside a classroom, and opened the door, poking her head inside.

"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?" McGonagall said.

She seemed calmer now, far less angry. Harrison had experienced with his aunt that a seemingly calm attitude was often the prelude to a sound telling off, so he knew better than to think he was off the hook.

He wondered if he was going to be caned. Better than expulsion, but not an easy pill to swallow.

Wood, however, turned out to be a fifth year, who looked as confused as Harrison felt.

"Po – Evans, this is Oliver Wood," McGonagall introduced.

Harrison caught the near-slip of the Professor's tongue, and wondered how many other teachers had been so close to revealing his birth name.

"Wood, I have found you a Seeker," McGonagall announced with glee in her voice.

Wood's face lit up with delight. "Are you serious, Professor?"

McGonagall nodded, and pointed to Neville's Remembrall in Harrison's hand. "He caught that thing in his hand after a fifty foot dive. Didn't even scratch himself. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it."

Wood stared in disbelief at the see-through ball, and then cast his gaze to Harrison. "Ever seen a Quidditch game, Evans?"

Harrison shook his head, too speechless to manage even a single syllable.

Wood seemed dumbstruck at the idea that Harrison had never played. "Well, we'll get you out on the pitch over the weekend, train you up. You're just the right build for a Seeker, too. Light, speedy. If we can get you a decent broom, we'll be in with a real chance to win the cup."

"I'll speak to the Headmaster to see if we can't bend the rule about first years owning brooms," McGonagall said. "Besides, if we can't change the rule, then, I'll just have to let Mr Evans _borrow_ my new broom."

Oliver grinned conspiratorially at McGonagall, and Harrison couldn't believe his luck when the Professor grinned back.

"Now, you'll have to train hard, Evans, or I may just change my mind about punishing you," McGonagall said. "Oh, and...ten points from Gryffindor for such reckless behaviour."

Harrison was happy to not be expelled, so he just nodded and tried to look sufficiently chastised. The problem was that the idea of being on the Qudditch team seemed really exciting. Flying had felt so natural, and he wanted to get back in the air as soon as possible.

He couldn't wait to tell Hermione. Maybe she'd let him borrow that _Quidditch Through the Ages_ she'd been reading.

Then again, she had not been impressed when he'd ignored her in order to go after Malfoy. He'd have to apologise to her the moment he saw her. It had been monumentally stupid, though he had to admit it seemed well worth it now.

Even better would be the look on Malfoy's face when he realised that Harrison's position as Seeker was all because of the blonde Slytherin's taunting behaviour. Harrison smirked, more than willing to rub Malfoy's nose in the karmic balance of it all.

0000000000

Hermione was furious with Harrison, and as they sat opposite one another in the library, Hermione kept kicking his shins every few moments.

"Ouch! Quit it!"

Hermione glared at him. "I can't believe you were rewarded for doing something so stupid!"

"I lost points," Harrison defended. "It's not like I wasn't punished."

"Ten points? What was Professor McGonagall thinking?"

Both Hermione and Harrison jumped as the Weasley twins sat on either side of them, Fred next to Hermione and George beside Harrison.

"She was thinking of the Quidditch Cup," Fred said.

"And about beating Slytherin this year," George added.

"The Gryff's haven't won since our brother Charlie left school the year before last," Fred continued.

"If there's one thing McGonagall loves more than Transfiguration-"

"-it's Quidditch," the twins finished together.

Hermione stared at the duo, shocked at their ability to finish each others sentences, and also with the knowledge they had just imparted.

"So, you think it's alright that Harrison didn't get punished?"

"We think it's wicked," Fred replied with a grin.

"Besides, what point would there really be in serving detention when there's Quidditch practice to be had?"

Hermione groaned in frustration, and then threw her hands in the air, defeated. "Fine! Fine. But, next year, when some idiot first year does the exact same thing because they know they could get a spot on the house team, there'd better not be any other punishment either."

Harrison stared at her, eyebrows raised. "Hermione, I do regret going off after Malfoy, but I don't regret getting onto the team. It sounds really great, and I think being on the team could be really fun."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but visibly softened. "Alright, fine. But, you'd better not fall off your broom or anything, because I'd never be able to come to your games after that."

"I won't fall off," he assured her. "Flying is great. Quidditch will be even better."

"Don't worry Harrikins," Fred said.

"It's really rare to get killed in a school match," George continued.

"Just maimed," Fred jibed.

Harrison smiled tightly at the duo. "Thanks guys, real comforting."

"We're here to serve."

000000000000


	6. The Surprise

Hey peeps! Thanks for all the great reviews! This chapter is mostly just fluff and a bit of filler. And the question of why Hermione's birthday never gets mentioned.

**SIX: THE SURPRISE**

The next week, Hermione found herself in a mire of confusion. Harrison had been a little distant, and frequently Hermione found herself alone as her best friend would go and confer in whisper with the Gryffindor boys, particularly the Weasley twins.

Whenever Hermione approached anyone, however, they would immediately fall silent. Hurt and confused, Hermione tried to let the feelings slip by her, but found that she really hadn't been expecting for Harrison to turn on her.

Even after her experiences during primary school, and having her peers turn her away, she found that this betrayal was so much worse.

What made it even more confusing, however, was that during class, Harrison was his regular friendly self. He'd slap high fives with her, and whisper to her, and write her notes when the teacher wasn't looking. After class, they would go to the library and do their homework, as well as continuing their project on working towards an answer in regards to Dudley's health problems. But the moment they were back in the common room, Harrison would shoot off to talk to everyone else.

By the end of the week, Hermione had had enough. The previous two Friday afternoons, she and Harrison had continued their expeditions of Hogwarts, and she found herself extremely disappointed when he proclaimed that he'd made arrangements to hang out with Seamus and Dean. Thus, Hermione found herself wandering the hallways of Hogwarts alone for the very first time. She could only hope that it would also be the last.

She wondered if she should tell Harrison that he'd upset her, however inadvertently. Then again, she didn't want to appear to be too dependent upon him, however true it was.

She wished she could talk to her mum about it all. With that thought in mind, she made her way to the owlery, and found a quiet nook to compose a letter, pouring out her sadness and frustration into the letter. When she was done, she tied the letter to one of the school owls, and gave it a few treats that were kept in the owlery for students to give to their delivery birds.

Hermione watched the brown owl fly away, watching him as he moved further and further away until she could no longer see him.

Feeling better for having vented her frustrations into the letter, Hermione made her way back to the Grffindor common room. She'd never noticed how long the walk was between the grounds and the dorms. She'd always had someone to talk to in her travels.

She finally found herself in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, and gave the password of 'Caput Draconis', and was given entrance after a longer pause than was usual.

She stepped through the portrait door, and was greeted by a massive cheer.

"SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

Hermione stuttered to a halt. Balloons and streamers decorated the common room, and a banner reading 'Happy Twelfth Birthday Hermione' was hung above the stairway. The tables had been moved to one side, and were covered in food and drinks, a large birthday cake in the centre of the table.

Hermione's eyes found Harrison in the crowd, his blue bandana immediately recognisable. He grinned at her as she finally remembered to breathe again.

"Wow!" Hermione exclaimed. "I never expected..."

Harrison stepped forward, a gaily wrapped gift in his hands.

"Happy birthday Hermione," Harrison said, wrapping her in a hug.

She was startled to find that she was shaking, and smiling like a loon. She'd never really had a birthday party like this.

The Weasley twins were singing a rousing rendition of 'Happy Birthday', which many of the Gryffindors joined in. When they then descended into 'For She's A Jolly Good Fellow', Hermione could feel her cheeks hurting from too much smiling.

Harrison handed over the gift. "This is from all of us," he explained. "The firsties, anyway."

Hermione took it gingerly, and carefully unwrapped it, much to the general protests of the audience.

"Rip it!" George yelled impatiently.

"Tear into it," Fred added.

"Use your teeth," Lee Jordan advised.

Hermione ignored them all, and finished pulling off the wrapping paper to find a white box. She slipped the lid off, and her eyes widened in delight. A fluffy white cat lay curled at the bottom of the box.

She reached in, and immediately pulled her hand back when the cat moved.

"Is it real?" she asked in surprise.

But the moment her hand was away from the cat, it stopped moving, and immediately looked more like a plush toy.

"She's magic," Harrison explained. "We all pitched in for the most real looking cat we could find."

"That _you_ could find, mate," Seamus called out.

Harrison shrugged modestly.

"Anyway, we all chipped in for the cat, and then the Quidditch team worked out how to enchant her. It was way beyond first year magic, so Oliver, Angelina, Katie, Alicia and the twins all helped to get the charms right. Whenever you touch her, she'll come to life."

Hermione was astounded at the thought and effort that had gone into the gift. Usually for her birthday she received books, which wasn't unwelcome, but this was the first gift that had really required some effort.

Hermione threw her arms around her friend and kissed his cheek. Harrison's face went red, and there were loud catcalls from the upper years, and much whistling from the twins.

The birthday girl held the cat gingerly in her arms, marvelling at the magic that had gone into making the cat so realistic. The little cat purred, and moved and blinked; and when the cat yawned, there was a little pink tongue and tiny sharp teeth.

"This is so great, everyone," Hermione said. "Thank you so much."

The party continued for the rest of the afternoon, Hermione accepting the well-wishes and congratulations of her fellow Gryffindors, and trying not to jump every time she was hugged by people she didn't know very well.

The cat sat in her lap, purring away as she and Harrison claimed a spot on a couch in the middle of the common room. It was the first time that Hermione had really seen the common room so full. There were representatives from each year, and Hermione was startled by how many faces she didn't recognise. It was strange to think that she really didn't know many of the upper years, except the Weasley twins.

As the students began to taper away from the festivities, Harrison and Hermione fell into a quiet conversation.

"I can't believe you did all this," Hermione said.

"It's your birthday," he replied charmingly.

"I'm surprised you even remembered."

Harrison shrugged. "I'm sure you remember when mine is."

"July 31st," Hermione replied. She supposed he had a point. "Is this why you've been disappearing so much?"

Harrison nodded. "Yeah, sorry about that. Plus, everyone here sucks at lying," he said. "Every time you came near, I'd be all 'be cool, guys', but they'd just go silent."

Hermione felt herself relax in relief. She'd have to write another letter to her parents explaining how great a friend she had in Harrison, and how much she had misjudged him.

"Thank you, Harrison," she said. "I've really never had a friend like you."

Harrison grinned. "I've never had a friend like you either."

"Don't think you'll be getting away scot free just because your birthday's in the holidays," Hermione warned. "I'll just barge into your house and take over. You know I will."

Harrison grinned happily. He completely believed her.

"So, what are you going to call your cat?" Harrison asked, reaching over to pet the fluffy white bundle in Hermione's lap. The cat rumbled happily and twisted around to present its belly for a thorough scratching.

"You named her, Harrison. She's Magic," Hermione pronounced.

He grinned. "Freakin' Magic."

Hermione laughed, carefree and genuinely happy. "She's freakin' Magic."

000000000

A/N: Like I said, mostly fluff. I do love Harry and Hermione, as you can probably tell. :)

Re-edit: Thanks everyone who answered my question I had originally posted, re: first year age differences. Many thanks!


	7. The Trio

Many thanks for all your reviews, and also for answering my question re: first year ages. I find the whole split year learning system very bizarre. Anyways, thanks again!

**SEVEN: THE TRIO**

For Hogwarts first years, the first eight weeks of term were definitely the hardest. Getting used to living away from their families, as well as keeping up with homework for six subjects was brutally difficult. Learning to share dorms with total strangers who had different habits, and different needs was challenging, and trying to become friends with your housemates was nerve-wracking.

For Harrison, his biggest challenge was in keeping his scar covered at all times. The constantly changing bandanas was the most effective method, and he'd learned that the only lesson he wasn't allowed to wear one was during potions. Still, having to use make-up with none of the others noticing had been hard. But not impossible.

Hermione had struggled to make friends in her own dorm room. Her two female year mates, Lavender and Parvati, were as different from Hermione as was humanly possible. Where Hermione had come to Hogwarts to be educated, the two other Gryffindor girls had seemingly come to socialise. Hermione had very little to contribute to their conversations about hair, makeup and boys, and thus, was mostly excluded from their conversations each night when room curfew was in effect.

After ten at night was when Hermione felt the most alone. She knew that she'd been lucky in finding a genuine friend in Harrison that first day on the train. And, judging from the way her two dorm mates teased her mercilessly, she knew that without Harrison to keep the boys (mostly) in check, her experience at Hogwarts could have been incredibly different.

Still, Hermione was keen for the room curfew to be lifted at six in the morning. The second it ended, she was out the door, and meeting a smiling Harrison, who would hold open the portrait door for her and gesture her through in front of him. She would never admit it, but she liked his old-world chivalry.

"Morning Hermione," Harrison greeted her. "Happy Halloween."

"And to you," she replied, stepping out of the common room and into the hallway. They made their way down the first flight of stairs, pausing at the lower landing to wait for a moving staircase that would take them on a more direct path to the Great Hall.

"Today should be interesting," Hermione said. "Halloween in the wizarding world is probably very different to the muggle world. Especially because of...Harry Potter defeating You-Know-Who."

Harrison scowled, and rolled his eyes. "I still don't Know-Who. Not a single bloody textbook in the library says his name. And the professors don't talk about it. I'd have thought History of Magic would've been a lot more interesting than it is."

Hermione grimaced at the mention of her least favourite subject. She too had been looking forward to learning History of Magic, but the teacher for the subject, Professor Binns, was a ghost, whose delivery of his subject was so dry that even Hermione, the self-confessed teacher's pet, had trouble following his lectures.

Hermione came to a halt in the middle of a staircase and put her hand on Harrison's arm to stop him from walking. A step below her, he turned and tilted his head up.

"Harrison, I...I don't know if it's really appropriate, but...I wanted to say I'm sorry," Hermione said. "About your parents. I know it can't be easy to hear people talk about them the way they do. To hear them talk about you."

Harrison shook his head. "I don't mean this to sound like I don't care, but...I don't remember them. Mum tried to tell me about them, but she didn't know much about my dad. Only that he was some sort of police officer. An auror, I've since found out. And my mother was working on a Charms mastery before she took time off to have me. I wish I could have known them, but...I don't regret the life I've had. I love mum."

"I know," Hermione replied softly. "And that doesn't make you a bad person. It's hard to miss something you don't realise you don't have. You grew up with a family that loved you, and that's what your birth parents would have wanted for you."

"I think so too," Harrison said. "You know, every Halloween, mum would take Dud and I to a church, and we'd light a candle for them. We never really went to church otherwise, except for Christmas and Easter, but...I hate having to miss it this year."

Hermione shook her head. "You don't have to. There's a chapel on grounds. We could go there now if you wanted."

Harrison nodded, a sad smile on his face. "I'd really like that."

Hermione quickly got her bearings, and steered them to the east corridors, heading to the fourth floor.

"I didn't know there was a chapel," Harrison commented.

"They do services on Sundays," Hermione replied. "A lot of kids with non-magic parents attend. Wizarding families don't really have religious beliefs."

"What about you? What do you believe?" Harrison queried.

"'There are more things on heaven and earth, Harrison, than are dreamt of in your philosophy'," Hermione quoted.

Harrison stared at her quizzically.

"Hamlet," Hermione replied. "My parents were big Shakespeare fans. Hence my name. Anyway, what I mean to say is that there is so much more to this world than we will ever understand. So, yes, I believe in God."

"I think I do too," Harrison replied. "I want to believe in heaven at least. The idea of meeting up with people we've lost is..."

"Comforting," Hermione finished for him. "When my granddaddy died, I was devastated. Mum took me to church, and we spent hours talking about God and heaven. Being able to think about granddaddy looking down and watching over me was about as comforting a thought as I could have."

They turned a corner and stopped in front of a room that said 'Chapel' about the doorway. They entered quietly, and approached a table of unlit candles to the side. They stood, side-by-side, in silent solidarity for a moment before Harrison took out his wand and carefully lit the wicks of two candles.

"For mother and father," Harrison whispered. "Wherever you are, may you be at peace."

Hermione wiped an absent tear from her cheek. She took out her own wand, and lit a third candle. "For granddaddy Granger. May you always be smiling down on me."

They stayed for a moment, staring into the candles, each of them contemplating those they had lost. Harrison reached down and found Hermione's hand, twining their fingers, giving her hand a comforting squeeze.

"Thanks," he whispered softy. "For bringing me here."

Hermione leant her head against his shoulder. "I think I needed it too. To remember that my family is still with me, even when we're a thousand kilometres apart."

They slowly drew apart, and Hermione wiped at her eyes, feeling the swell of sadness unclench within her.

"Breakfast?"

Harrison smiled, and gave a short nod. "Breakfast."

He slung an arm over Hermione's shoulders, and happily followed her lead back to the Great Hall.

It hadn't been the morning he expected, but it had certainly been one to remember.

000000000000000000

With the excitement of the impending Halloween Feast over-riding any sense of decorum for the bulk of the Hogwarts students, the teachers found themselves trying to teach extremely distracted students. Professor Flitwick, the tiny Charms Professor, found that his group of First Years were especially rowdy.

He clapped his hands, trying to get their attention.

"Alright, students, let's try something a little more practical," Flitwick said.

That caught their attention. Wand work was often the only way to get the students to concentrate on a word he was saying.

"Levitation. The ability to make things fly," Flitwick said.

Excitement fluttered over the classroom, and wands were pulled out of pockets and book bags.

"The incantation: _Wingardium Leviosa_. Your wand movement, _swish and flick_."

He promptly demonstrated the spell, using several books as an example, and then gently landed them on his desk. He pulled out a box of feathers that he kept for the first practice round of the levitation charm. Using the very spell he was going to teach them, he levitated a feather onto the desk of each of the students.

"Now, remember, pronunciation is especially important, so...without wands at first. Repeat after me: _Wingardium Leviosa_."

A burst of noise came from the First Years, and Professor Flitwick's trained ears picked up some very mangled words.

"Again; _Wingardium Leviosa_."

Flitwick fought down the urge to sigh. The problem with trying to teach such a large group was that he wouldn't have time to individually correct people's pronunciation.

"Alright class, wands out. Now, swish and flick. Swish on 'Wingardium' and flick on 'Leviosa'. Now you try."

There was much enthusiastic wand waving, and Flitwick hid a grimace as he noticed Ron Weasley seeming to conduct an invisible orchestra.

Hermione, having nearly been gouged in the eye with his wand, was quick to point out his error.

"Careful, Ronald, you're going to poke somebody's eye out," Hermione chastised. "And, you're saying it wrong."

Ron scowled unhappily. "You do it then, if you're so clever."

Hermione caught Harrison's eye, and he nodded at her encouragingly. She gripped her wand lightly, and visualised what she wanted her magic to do. With a swish and a flick, she incanted "_Wingardium Leviosa."_

Ron's frown became even more pronounced when Hermione's feather slowly raised into the air, her wand directing it above their heads.

"Well done, Miss Granger," Flitwick praised enthusiastically.

Ron tried again, "_Wingardium Leviosahr."_

"It's Levi-o-sa," Hermione corrected him. "Not Levio-sahr."

Ron huffed, and turned his back to her. Discouraged, Hermione turned to Harrison.

"Hermione, I'm a little confused on when to flick," Harrison said, trying to distract his friend from Ron. He knew that Hermione was at the breaking point when it came to putting up with Ron's moods. Redirecting her efforts was always safest.

"Alright, well, show me," Hermione said.

Harrison swished and flicked as he said the spell, but his feather refused to move. His pronunciation wasn't the problem, but his wand work was.

"Alright, that's nearly it," Hermione said. "But, this time, flick down on the 'o' in 'Leviosa'."

Harrison tried again, and whooped in triumph as his feather took flight. Hermione beamed at him proudly.

"Excellent, Mr Evans," Flitwick said.

This, of course, just seemed to make Ron angrier.

In the ten minutes remaining to the end of the lesson, only two other students were able to make their feather take flight. One was surprisingly Neville Longbottom, and the other was a Ravenclaw first year named Terry Boot. Strangely, they'd both been sitting directly behind Hermione Granger, and taking in every word of advice she'd given her fellow students.

As class let out for lunch, Harrison and Hermione were accosted by Ron Weasley.

"Think you two are clever, do you?" he sneered angrily. "You're both nightmares. It's no wonder you don't have any friends."

"Actually, Weasley," Harrison replied, pulling himself to his full height and staring sharply at Ron, "I think it's you who has no friends. And to make it worse, you wouldn't know magic if it danced in front of you in a tea cosy."

Ron's face went bright red, and he pushed past his fellow Gryffindor's.

Dean and Seamus moved closer to Harrison and Hermione. "He was bang out of order, mate," Dean commiserated.

"Yeah guys, don't worry about him," Seamus chimed in. "We think you two are great."

Harrison bumped fists with both of the boys, who quickly left, uncomfortable with the way Hermione seemed to be on the verge of tears.

Hermione breathed in shakily and looked to Harrison. He wrapped an arm over her shoulders and pulled her closer.

"He's a git," Harrison said. "You are brilliant, and the best friend anyone could have. He's jealous because you, my friend, are freakin' magic."

Hermione smiled shyly, her cheeks blushing a brilliant pink. She leant closer to her friend, and they happily wandered into the Great Hall for lunch.

0000000000

That evening before dinner, Hermione was struck with a bout of stomach cramps that left her doubled over and wincing in pain. Harrison gently touched her shoulder.

"What's wrong?" he asked worriedly.

Hermione pressed a hand to her abdomen. "I...I need to see the nurse."

Harrison nodded. "I'll walk you there."

"No!" Hermione yelled. "I...I can go on my own."

Harrison, however, wasn't having a moment of it. "No way. You can barely stand up straight. I'm not leaving you alone."

"But the feast is about to start," Hermione protested.

Harrison shrugged. "It's not like they've ever run out of food before," he replied nonchalantly. "It'll still be there in an hour."

Hermione cast about for another reason to have Harrison leave, but unfortunately could come up with nothing. She had a fair idea of what was wrong with her, and she didn't relish the idea of having to explain why she had such severe stomach cramps. Her mother had prepared her for this, but, unfortunately she hadn't been expecting for her period to start any time soon.

"A-alright," she agreed hesitantly.

She let him put his shoulder under her arm and support her up to the hospital wing. She, of course, gave him the directions, which he followed to the letter.

They made it up to the infirmary just as the nurse Madame Pomfrey seemed to be on her way out.

"What's happened?" Madame Pomfrey asked.

"Cramps," Hermione replied shortly. "Extremely bad cramps."

Madame Pomfrey exchanged what seemed to Harrison to be a significant glance with Hermione. His best friend nodded, and Madame Pomfrey shooed him away, telling him to wait outside.

"First time?" the nurse asked sympathetically.

"Yes Madame," Hermione replied. "Mum explained all about them, but I wasn't expecting it to be so painful."

Madame Pomfrey headed to her medicine cabinet and pulled down a vial of a purple potion. She handed it to Hermione who gratefully drank the entire dose. Almost immediately Hermione felt her guts unclench, and the knot that seemed to be tying her stomach together released.

"Oh, thank you so much," Hermione enthused.

Madame Pomfrey gave Hermione a quick run-down of the various spells that could be used during a witch's monthlies to maintain hygiene and keep the pain to a minimum. Hermione was a quick learner, and twenty minutes later, she happily met Harrison in the corridor.

"What did she say? Are you alright? Is there anything I can do?" Harrison asked rapidly.

Hermione laughed. "No, it's fine, honestly. I'll be just fine. Madame Pomfrey gave me a potion for the cramping, and the pains all gone."

Harrison breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank Merlin."

They headed down to the Great Hall, but Hermione stopped outside the girls bathroom. "I'll meet you in the Hall."

Harrison hesitated, but his stomach was growling loudly. "Alright. But, if you're not in there in five minutes, I'm going to come looking for you. Deal?"

"Deal," Hermione replied.

Harrison made his way into the Great Hall and took the vacant seat beside Neville, nodding a greeting to his fellow year mates. He didn't nod to Ron, however, and the red head seemed to be trying his level best to ignore Harrison.

"Where's Hermione?" Neville asked.

"Bathroom," Harrison replied.

"I uh...I meant to say earlier," Neville began hesitantly, "that you and Hermione are great. And Ron's got it all wrong about you guys not having friends."

Harrison smiled genuinely and clapped Neville on the shoulder. "Thanks Nev."

Before Harrison could even take a bite, the doors burst open and Professor Quirrell came running in. "TROLL!" he yelled. "Troll in the dungeon!"

Silence reigned as the students tried to take in what he'd yelled.

"Thought you ought to know," Quirrell said, and promptly fainted.

Pandemonium broke out at all four tables, screaming students standing and trying to climb over the bench seats. At the head table, Professor Dumbledore stood and bellowed "SILENCE!"

Everybody stopped in their places and stared in bewilderment as the headmaster quickly gave instructions to the teachers, the prefects and the students. The students were to follow their prefects to the dorms, quickly and quietly. Harrison looked around, trying to spot Hermione. He felt his heart drop as he realised Hermione had yet to come back from the bathroom.

Harrison stopped abruptly and Neville ran into his back.

"What's wrong?" Neville asked.

"Hermione. She's still in the bathroom," Harrison said.

Neville paled considerably. "She won't know about the troll."

"I'm going to find her."

Neville didn't have time to hesitate as Harrison took off in the direction of the girls bathroom. "I'm coming with you."

They broke off from the Gryffindors and raced to the bathroom that Hermione had gone into. A foul stench reached their nostrils, and they both winced, covering their noses with their sleeves.

"That's disgusting," Neville said.

"That's the troll," Harrison said. The floor shook ominously, and Harrison peeked around the corner, watching as the troll smashed open a door and ducked through the opening.

"It's going into the girls' bathroom."

"Hermione," Neville whispered fearfully.

A high-pitched shriek confirmed their worst fears. The two boys raced forwards, wands out and ran through the ruined doorway.

"Hermione!" Harrison yelled.

"Harrison!" she cried, terrified. "Help!"

"Distract it," Harrison directed to Neville.

Neville grabbed several pieces of debris from the ruined door and threw them at the massive troll. One of the pieces hit the trolls head, distracting it from Hermione's position, crouched beneath the sinks.

Harrison took a running leap and threw himself onto the trolls back. Once he was up there, however, he wasn't entirely sure what he should be doing. The troll shook him violently, attempting to dislodge the pesky passenger, but Harrison clung firmly, though his wand somehow ended up in the trolls nose, startling the troll as much as it disgusted Harrison.

Annoyed, the troll began swinging its heavy club, destroying the sinks that Hermione was trying to hide beneath.

"The club, Nev!" Harrison yelled. "We have to get the club."

Neville had no idea how to do that. Hermione, however, seemed to have a better idea. "Swish and flick!" she yelled.

Neville took a deep breath, and aimed his wand at the trolls club. "_Wingardium Leviosa!_"

The club flew from the trolls' hand, and levitated above its head.

"Move Harrison!" Neville yelled.

Harrison jumped from the trolls' back and rolled onto the floor. Neville released the spell while the club was directly above the troll. It hit the creature's head, and the troll and club both smashed to the ground with a shaking thud.

The trio shared relieved grins, and Hermione slowly uncurled herself from her hiding spot. She hurried past the troll and grabbed Harrison into a hug. She then gave Neville a hug, much to his shock. The shy boy blushed bright red and kicked nervously at a piece of wood at his feet.

"You saved my life," Hermione said gratefully.

"You'd have done the same for us," Harrison replied.

Hermione nodded. "I would."

Harrison slapped Neville's shoulder. "That was some great spell work Nev."

"T-thanks," Neville replied.

"Let's get out of here," Harrison suggested.

Hermione was only too happy to leave behind the destroyed bathroom. Unfortunately, before they could leave, a quartet of Professor's turned up, drawn to the location by the smell and the trail of ruined artefacts leading up to the bathroom.

Professors McGonagall, Snape, Dumbledore and Quirrell stared in shock at the prone troll on the ground.

"What is going in here?" McGonagall demanded. "Explain yourselves at once."

Harrison could practically see the steam coming from the Deputy's ears and knew that the best way to contain this disaster was to try and shoulder the blame.

"We're really sorry, Professors," Harrison said. "Only, Hermione was in the bathroom when Professor Quirrell came running in about the troll. I only realised she was missing on the way to the dorms. I grabbed Neville, and we came after her to tell her about the troll. Only, it found her first."

"I'd be dead if it wasn't for them," Hermione said.

"How did three first years manage to incapacitate a fully grown mountain troll?" Professor Snape asked.

"Well, Harrison distracted it," Hermione said, omitting the part about him jumping on the troll. "And then Neville levitated its club above its head, and knocked it out."

The Professors seemed to be impressed with their ingenuity.

"You should have called for a Professor," Snape chastised. Harrison vaguely realised that there was a tear in the leg of the Professor's pants, and he seemed to be bleeding. Snape swept his cloak over the wound when he realised that Harrison had seen it.

"Yes sir," Harrison agreed. "There just wasn't any time. Nev and I wanted to make sure our friend was alright, and all the teachers were heading to the third floor."

McGonagall seemed to accept the explanation.

"Well then...ten points each to Gryffindor for maintaining courage under pressure. Well done, all of you. Next time, however, try not to take on something like this alone."

Harrison glanced between Hermione and Neville. "We weren't alone, Professor."

000000000

A/N: And thus, a trio is born.


	8. The Quidditch Match

Hey peeps! G'day to all the new readers! Glad to hear from you all. And thanks to everyone who has favourite and put alerts on this fic! You guys are great.

**EIGHT: THE QUIDDITCH MATCH**

The morning of the first Quidditch game of the year dawned bright and sunny. Perfect condition, according to Oliver Wood. Harrison wasn't so sure. He felt as though his stomach was about to eject itself from the confines of his body in a display of protest.

Hermione watched as her friend moved food around his breakfast plate without bothering to take a bite.

"You have to eat something," she said softly. "You'll be sick if you don't."

"I think I'll be sick if I do," Harrison replied. "I don't think I've ever been so nervous in my life."

Neville stared at him incredulously. "Not even two weeks ago you jumped on top of a troll's back, and now you're nervous about Quidditch."

"Well, that was more spur of the moment," Harrison replied moodily. "Besides, Hermione was in trouble. I couldn't just stand there like a muppet."

Hermione fought back the smile at his words. "Well, at least have some toast."

Neville blinked in confusion. "What's a muppet?"

Harrison knew better than to argue with Hermione. He knew he would lose in an instant. He took a piece of toast and spread a light layer of butter atop it. He bit into the corner, and found that once he had tasted food, his stomach began telling him he should eat more.

Hermione sighed with relief as Harrison finished the piece of toast and then reached to take another.

While he ate, Hermione explained to Neville exactly what a muppet was, and why being one wasn't the best thing in the world. She had a feeling she'd lost him at the world 'Kermit' but at least she'd tried.

Harrison managed several pieces of bacon to go with the toast, until he'd eaten just a little less than usual for breakfast. He exchanged a glance with Oliver Wood, who nodded and wolf whistled to get the teams attention. The team shot up eagerly and followed the captain away from the Great Hall and out to the Quidditch pitch.

Hermione and Neville stayed several paces back, and many more Gryffindor students trickled out. The Slytherins quickly followed suit, and the majority of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff also went to watch the first match of the season. With the rivalry between Slytherin and Grffindor, it was going to be an interesting game.

Harrison was back to feeling nervous again as the team waited to go onto the pitch.

In the past few weeks, the team had been practicing, and he'd felt quite at home whilst in the air. Now that there was pressure riding on his flying abilities, he wasn't feeling quite so confident.

"Scared Harrison?" Oliver Wood asked.

"A little," he confided.

"That's alright. I felt the same way before my first game too."

"What happened?"

"I, uh, I don't really remember. Took a bludger to the head two minutes in. Woke up in hospital a week later."

Harrison's eyes widened in fear. Oliver really needed to brush up on his pep talk skills. Moments later the team mounted their brooms and flew onto the pitch, rising higher into air and flying a loop to the sound of the school cheering for the two teams.

While the team captains levelled out on either side of Madam Hooch, Harrison's eyes scanned the crowd, searching for Hermione and Neville. He managed to spot them amongst the rest of the Gryffindor first years, and was uplifted to see the sign that read 'Evans for President' that Dean had made.

The whistle blew, and immediately, Harrison's mind was back in the game. The last few weeks had been spent training and learning exactly what a Seeker was meant to do during a game. In actual fact, his job wasn't all that hard. He just had to be particularly observant, and find a small golden ball the size of a walnut.

In terms of gameplay, Seeker's weren't really involved in the main event. Oliver's best piece of advice had been to fly high and out of the way of the rest of the team. It was also the best way to keep an eye out for the snitch.

The game itself was brutal. The Slytherin's seemed to have picked their players for size rather than skill, and considering that the three Gryffindor chasers were all females, they had the advantage when it came to sheer bulk.

The trio of chasers, however, worked extremely well together. Despite it being Katie Bell's first year on the team as well, she, Alicia and Angelina all managed to work as a well-oiled team. Plus, Oliver Wood was excellent at keeping the quaffle away from the goalposts.

The Weasley twins were back for their second year on the team, and as Beaters, it was their job to keep the Bludgers away from the rest of the team, and hit them towards the Slytherins in an attempt to distract the other team. The twins were far better at it than the Slytherin Beaters.

Harrison swept his eyes over the pitch, waiting for the glimpse of gold that would win them the game. With the snitch being worth one hundred and fifty points, it was imperative for their team to be the ones to catch it. In more than ninety-five percent of all Qudditch games, the catcher of the Snitch was the team who won the match.

Harrison's heart jumped a little as he caught sight of the snitch near the goalposts, and immediately he drove his broom forward, racing to get to the other side of the pitch before the Slytherin Seeker could realise where the snitch was hiding.

Before he could make it even halfway across the pitch, his broom began bucking like a wild bronco. Harrison's hands gripped tightly around the handle, and he dug his heels into the foot-rests of his Nimbus 2000. The broom, however, refused to respond to any of his commands, and he felt like he was riding a bull as it tried to dislodge him.

Groans and gasps came from the audience, but Harrison had his mind on his broom. He saw the Weasley twins begin circling below him, ready to catch him should he fall. That was a slightly terrifying notion, but at least they were ready.

In the stands, Hermione was pale and shaking. Neville gripped her shoulder, his fingers digging in enough to potentially leave bruises.

"What's happening?"

Hermione snatched a pair of binoculars out of one of the second years hands, ignoring the shout of protest. Hermione, panicking but trying to remain level-headed, used them to scan the crowd, and found herself watching Professor Snape staring up at Harrison, his eyes unblinking, his lips moving in a chant. Hermione narrowed her eyes.

There was no way that Professor Snape was trying to jinx Harrison's broom, that didn't make any sense at all. He'd been so helpful throughout the last few weeks. She wouldn't go so far as to call him friendly, but she certainly didn't think that he was capable of sabotaging an eleven-year-olds broomstick.

She refocused on him, and noticed Professor Quirrell was behind Snape, wringing his hands together uselessly, and staring, also unblinkingly, up at Harrison.

Quirrell?

Strange, Hermione thought, but far more likely than Snape.

Hermione grabbed Neville and dragged him over to the set of stairs, both of them racing down them and through the underground passageway to get to the teachers stands. Neville was panting breathlessly by the time they'd reached the lower level of where Snape and Quirrell were both sitting.

"What's – going – on?" Neville gasped.

"Quirrell," Hermione whispered. "I think he's jinxing Harris's broom."

"Quirrell?" Neville repeated. "Why would he?"

Hermione ignored that for the moment. She and Harrison had been talking about whether they should admit to Neville about Harrison's birth parents, but as yet had been undecided. Perhaps this would be the incentive they'd needed to bring him in on the secret. But that would be up to Harrison.

"I don't know. But we have to stop him," Hermione said.

Neville stared in confusion. "How?"

Hermione climbed up two stairs, making sure to stay out of sight of the teachers, and pointed her wand at Quirrell's robes. "_Incendio_."

It took a moment for the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor to realise that is robes were aflame but the moment he did, there was a gasp of relief from the watching crowd. Hermione caught a glimpse of her best friend through the teacher's seats, and felt her heart unclench as she saw him steadily riding his broom once more.

Neville stared at Hermione in amazement.

"You just set a teacher's robes on _fire_," he whispered.

Hermione grabbed Neville's arm and dragged him down the steps and back to the underground passageway.

"You won't tell anyone, will you?" Hermione asked.

Neville shook his head, his eyes still wide with disbelief. "Never."

Hermione was satisfied with the answer, and they made their way quickly back to their seats.

They were just in time to watch Harrison force his broom into a dive, racing after the golden snitch, the Slytherin Seeker hot on his tail. Harrison was faster though, and was far more prepared to take risks. Keeping his broom in a dive, he rocketed towards the ground at an alarming speed. The Slytherin Seeker pulled up more than five feet from the ground, while Harrison barely had a foot to spare. He stayed low, and stretched his hand out, straining to reach the fluttering gold ball.

He felt his feet touch solid ground, and his balance was ruined. He bucked forward, losing his broom, his mouth wide open, and he felt something solid hit the back of his throat. Immediately his gag reflex forced it out of his throat, and into his waiting hands, he spat out the snitch.

The crowd went wild!

Harrison raised the snitch n the air, shaking it in victory as his teammates immediately flew down to join him on the ground. The twins hoisted Harrison onto their shoulders, and the Gryffindors in the stands went hoarse from screaming.

Harrison looked up into the crowd and waved frantically at Hermione and Neville. He grinned widely and shook his fist harder. Quidditch had quickly become his favourite sport.

0000000000

Later that night, after a celebratory feast in their common room, (with food supplied by the Weasley twins), Harrison, Hermione and Neville sequestered themselves into a quiet corner of the common room.

"Quirrell?" Harrison mused in confusion. "I've never really spoken to him at all. Seems weird that he'd try to kill me."

Neville raised an eyebrow at his friend. "Seems weird that anyone would try to kill you."

Harrison caught Hermione's eye, and he silently asked her opinion. She nodded approvingly, and Harrison looked around the room to see who was nearby. The first years had all dispersed, and no one was close enough to eavesdrop.

"Nev...I – I haven't been entirely honest with you," Harrison said shakily.

"How do you mean?"

"Well...I was adopted by my mum, well she's my aunt really, when I was little. She'd just got a divorce, so she filed to have her name changed. She had mine changed too. To Harrison Evans. From Harry Potter."

Neville stared at him, his face expressionless. After a moment, he sat back in stunned disbelief.

"Wow. That was not what I thought you were going to tell me."

"What were you thinking?" Harrison asked curiously.

"Well...it may have involved your mum having a drunken one-night stand with Dumbledore, but I'm not going to go into details."

Hermione snorted with laughter. She and Harrison had discovered that Neville had a very dry sense of humour once they'd managed to pry him out of his shell.

"I'm really sorry Neville. I was going to tell you," Harrison promised. "It's just...I don't really think of myself as being _him_. The whole Boy-Who-Lived thing."

Neville nodded. He could understand Harrison's point of view really. He couldn't imagine the type of pressure that would have been placed on Harrison by the entirety of the wizarding world if his identity had become known.

"Who else knows?" Neville asked curiously.

"Just Hermione," Harrison replied. "And the Professors, of course. My name was down as Harry Potter in the register. Professor McGonagall had it changed on all the rolls in class."

"So...if the only people who know about your birth name are the Professors and our Hermione here, (and I doubt she's part of a conspiracy to kill you), then...it sort of makes sense for it to be one to the Professors trying to do you harm. Do you think Quirrell's a Death Eater?"

Harrison's brow scrunched in confusion. "A what?"

"Death Eater," Hermione repeated. "That's what You-Know-Who's army called themselves during the war."

"Weird," Harrison commented. "And...well, isn't Quirrell a little young to have been in the war? He's what, barely thirty?"

"Well, he'd have been about eighteen when You-Know-Who was defeated," Hermione answered. "So, it's not impossible, though it does seem unlikely. Plus Professor Dumbledore seems like he'd be pretty strict about not letting known war criminals into his school."

"Maybe it wasn't Quirrell," Harrison prevaricated. "Maybe it was one of the Slytherin parents."

"Except that the curse on your broom stopped when Quirell lost his concentration," Neville replied.

"The big question is, why would he risk it?" Hermione asked. "And in front of the entire school? If he wanted it to look like an accident he'd have been better off cursing you when you were in the last dive."

"Thanks Hermione," Harrison snarked. "Really comforting."

Hermione glared at him. "That's not what I meant."

"Anyway," Neville broke in, "why would he want to kill you? You-Know-Who's been gone for a decade, and any of his followers who are still free all deny ever following him anyway. He couldn't take the credit for it even if he wanted to."

"It does seem strange," Hermione agreed.

Harrison had a thought flit through his mind and he perked up immediately. "Hey, maybe we could go and rummage through his room."

Neville shook his head frantically, and Hermione looked thoughtful.

"You're not seriously thinking about this are you?" Neville demanded.

"If we can do it, and not get caught...it could be worth it. Something's off about Professor Quirrell," Hermione said. "And not just his smelly turban."

"Maybe we could work out why my scar twinges every time I'm in his class," Harrison suggested.

Neville's eyes immediately went to Harrison's forehead, and he frowned in consternation. "How're you hiding your scar? I've seen you without your bandana, and I've never noticed."

"I use this muggle invention called make-up," Harrison replied. "It's basically a powder. I just put it on every morning before classes."

Hermione ignored the boys as her mind worked over the problem associated with getting into a Professor's private office. For one, she and the boys couldn't go together. She and Harrison were so well known for hanging out together, that most people assumed that where Harrison was, so too was Hermione. That would work in their favour when they went their separate ways.

"Are professors required to go to Quidditch matches?" Hermione asked.

"I think so," Neville replied. "They were all at this one. Even that crazy Divinations teacher."

Hermione nodded and worked out a fairly good way to ensure that Quirrell would be preoccupied, and that she wouldn't really be missed.

"Harrison, you and Neville need to keep your eyes on Quirrell at Saturday's Quidditch match. Make sure he stays put. I'll get into his office and see if I can find anything that would tell us why Quirrell would want you dead. And if anyone asks where I am, just pretend to get flustered and say 'female troubles'."

Harrison flushed bright red.

"Excellent!" Hermione laughed. "Just like that."

000000000000

A/N: I really dislike writing Quidditch matches, and that probably showed. Sorry!


	9. The Exploration

Hey everyone! Thanks for all your great reviews! It's inspiring me to keep writing, which is always fun.

This is a massive re-edit after several comments in regards to the unlikelihood of Quirrell keeping a journal. I don't necessarily agree that he _wouldn't_ keep a journal, because he would have no one to brag to, except himself. But, I take all constructive criticism on board. So, here's what I hope will be more believable.

**CHAPTER NINE: THE EXPLORATION**

Hermione's eyes swept the empty corridor, her ears straining for the slightest noise. So far, so good. Quirrell's office was on the third floor, and thankfully most everyone was at the Quidditch pitch, watching Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw battle it out in the air. Hermione was grateful that nearly eighty percent of the school was currently outside, and the remaining twenty percent seemed to be nowhere near Quirrell's office.

The door was locked, but Hermione had prepared for that. She'd been brushing up on her unlocking skills, and had taught herself the incantation '_alohamora'._ The door opened quietly and Hermione slipped inside.

She swallowed nervously, her heart pounding rapidly in her chest. She'd never done anything like this before, and she was almost certain that she would be caught and expelled. She'd never be able to explain this to her parents!

She took a deep breath and reminded herself of how terrified she'd been last weekend, watching Harrison's broom bucking wildly underneath him. If Professor Quirrell was the culprit, she intended to find out. And discover why on earth the man would try to kill her best friend.

Hermione tiptoed lightly to Quirrell's desk. The man was freakishly neat, and had stacks of papers waiting to be graded in one pile, while another was the finished product. She resisted the urge to rifle through and find her own assignment to see how she'd done. That wasn't the goal, she scolded herself.

When the top of his desk yielded no clues, Hermione opened the desk drawers, and carefully continued her search. The top two drawers contained nothing more interesting than odds and ends. The bottom drawer, however, was locked.

Hermione pointed her wand and whispered '_alohamora'_ again. The drawer clicked open and Hermione carefully rifled through the contents. She lifted out a book on chess strategy, another on managing botanical nightmares, and a book that went into detail about the charms needed for the safe flight of a broomstick. Hermione scowled at the book which had probably let Quirrell know exactly what weaknesses to aim for.

At the very bottom of the pile was a tattered leather-bound portfolio.

Her hands shook as she carefully removed it and sitting herself down on the floor, she opened it hesitantly.

Inside the document folder was filled with newspaper clippings, textbook pages, and hand-written bullet point notes on frayed and torn parchment.

A page from a book detailed Nicolas Flamel's discovery of the Philosopher's Stone, and showed a picture of a ruby-red stone. Hermione scanned the information, reading the details of how the Stone produced an elixir that would turn any metal into gold, and if ingested, would give the drinker immortal life. The words 'immortal life' had been underlined aggressively.

The next few pages were hand-written research notes that seemed to be about high-security vaults, and how Gringotts' goblins enchanted their high-security section. There was several pages of words Hermione had never heard of, and she deduced that it was extremely advanced magic. The page after the notes held a single newspaper article that was dated August 14th.

_GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST_

_Investigations into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. _

_ Grinngotts' goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day._

_ 'But we're not telin you what was in there, so keep your noses out of it if you know what's good for you,' said a Gringotts' spokesgoblin this afternoon._

Hermione gasped. She'd read about the break-in, though she hadn't realised its significance at the time. How could she have? But, if Quirrell was researching security vaults, and then including a clipping about the Gringotts break-in, then what other conclusion could she have come to, other than Quirrell was behind it.

But, if whatever vault he'd broken into had been empty, what had he been trying to take?

She turned to the next page, and saw a note from Professor Dumbledore.

_Professor Quirrell,_

_ You are invited to attend a meeting, to be held in my office on August 17th, along with Mr Hagrid, and Professors McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick and Sprout. Bring an open mind._

_ Yours, Albus Dumbledore._

What followed was a hand-written section with the Professors names, and a short descriptor.

_Me - Troll_

_McGonagall – Chess (49)_

_Sprout – Plants (71)_

_Snape – Potions_

_Hagrid – Beast (32)_

_Flitwick – Charmed keys_

_Dumbledore - ?_

_Third floor corridor. _

The next set of papers seemed to be research about the Potter family. A family tree that went back hundreds of years, and contained various textbook and newspaper blurbs that detailed the defeat of Lord Voldemort at the hands of Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. Hermione took a moment to rejoice in the fact that she finally had a name for the Dark Lord.

A piece of parchment that looked extremely out of place was next in her pile. It showed a moving picture of a dying husband and his weeping wife, and the words 'sharing a soul with your spouse'. Hermione wondered whether Quirrell had ever been married. She put it aside for later contemplation.

Another memo from Dumbledore dated September 1st was in the folder.

_To my faithful Professors,_

_ I write to give you notice that Harry Potter will henceforth be known as Harrison Evans. His adoptive mother had his name changed in the muggle world, and Mr Evans wishes to use this name, and keep his identity as Harry Potter a complete secret. I feel it is imperative to honour his wish._

_ Regards, Albus Dumbledore._

Next she found a ripped out page, number 32, from a book on the care and feeding of various magical creatures. The page referred to a Cerberus, a giant three-headed dog, that Hermione had thought only existed in mythology. Her eyes found a sentence underlined in the passage.

_Each Cerberus will have a different trigger to lull it to sleep. For the cautious Cerberus owner, it is useful to know this trigger before attempting any type of training._

At the bottom of the page in Quirrell's hand-writing, a single word stood out. _Music._

Hermione swallowed nervously. If this page was anything like the Gringotts article, then it obviously meant something very real to Quirrell. Why would he need to know how to lull a Cerberus to sleep?

Another page of hand-written magical words and diagrams. From the looks of the illustration, it was a curse to knock a rider from his or her broom. Hermione felt compelled to rip it to shreds, but she hastily placed the piece of parchment back in the portfolio.

Page 71 from a textbook, and one that she recognised, gave details about the plant called Devil's Snare. Deadly to any attackers, it had a built in defensive system. Underlined on the page were the words '_will sulk in the sun'_.

Next she found another section ripped from a book, page 46, ripped from another book on magical creatures. This particular page dealt with the development of a dragon called a Norwegian Ridgeback. It detailed incubation time in an egg, and then gave a guide on what to expect in the years until it was fully grown.

Hermione shook her head fearfully. What on earth was Quirrell up to that he was researching such disparate topics? She went back to the handwritten page that listed the Professor's by name. The number's beside each of them corresponded with the page numbers from the ripped textbooks she'd found.

Except for McGonagall's. Chess (49). Hermione's eyes widened and she scrambled back to the small pile of books she'd taken from Quirrell's draw. The book on chess strategy had a bookmark in it, and was set at page 49. She opened it up to find a beginner's guide to trick chess moves. 'Checkmate in six easy moves' was the title of the particular chapter that was bookmarked.

It didn't make any sense. Quirrell was obviously researching something. And it had to do with Nicholas Flamel's famous Philosopher's Stoner, plus the Gringott's break-in, plus a dragon, a Cerberus, the Devil's Snare plant, and a Chess Game.

That made no sense at all.

She went back to the list of Professors, and pondered the words '_third floor corridor._' They'd been told by Professor Dumbledore at the beginning of the year that the Third Floor corridor was strictly forbidden to anyone who didn't wish to die a terrible death.

At the time, she hadn't given it all that much thought. She'd been far too excited by the prospect of firstly being accepted into magic school, and secondly at having made a friend.

What had Dumbledore been hinting at?

Whatever Quirrell was trying to do, it had to do with the forbidden corridor. And after having read about the Ceberus and the dragon, and a troll, Hermione wasn't entirely keen to go wandering about to find out exactly what was behind the door.

Hermione's body stiffened as she considered another meaning of the word troll on Quirrell's list. After her unpleasant encounter with a troll back in October, she wasn't exactly keen on having another one on Hogwarts grounds.

It had never been explained satisfactorily about how the troll had gotten onto Hogwarts grounds in the first place, or what it was doing there. So...if Quirrell had had something to do with the troll being in the castle, then what had been the point?

A muffled cheer came from the Quidditch stands, and Hermione knew that the game was over. She replaced the journal and crept back to the door. She quickly checked to ensure the corridor was empty, and then locked the door behind her.

She passed the corridor that was forbidden, and swallowed nervously. Behind that door was, quite possibly a Cerberus, or a dragon, and she had no desire whatsoever to see it. She couldn't believe that something so dangerous was being kept in a school full of children with only the warning from Dumbledore to keep them out. She would bet that the simple unlocking spell she'd taught herself would give her access to the room.

The library was barely four hallways from where she stood, and she decided to make her way there to wait for the end of the Quidditch match. It would be more interesting than waiting in the common room.

She crept further down the hallway, and stopped abruptly when she heard the distinct sound of footsteps, and a muttering voice coming from around the corner. Taking a chance, she poked her head around and saw a teacher she recognised as the Divinations Professor. She couldn't afford to be caught so close to Quirrell's office. The door across the hallway beckoned to her, and after a moment of indecision, she raced towards it and slipped inside, closing the door behind her.

She stayed perfectly still, her ear pressed against the door, listening for sounds of anymore people. The footsteps finally passed, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.

She leant against the door, and curiously studied the room she'd ended up in. It looked like a disused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls. In the centre of the room stood a large mirror, which seemed incredibly strange to Hermione. The mirror itself was magnificent, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame standing on two clawed feet.

There was an inscription carved around the top: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._

Hermione tried to translate the words, but they weren't in any language she'd ever heard.

"Strange," she whispered to herself.

She stepped in front of the mirror, and nearly jumped back in fright. The reflection wasn't a reflection at all!

She steadied herself and stared into the mirror. It was herself staring back, only she was older!

Her bushy hair was tamer, curly and sitting beautifully over her shoulders. Her teeth were smaller too, and she was smiling happily. If she had to guess, it looked as though she was about eighteen in the mirror. And pinned to her robes was a badge that read HG. Head Girl.

"Impossible."

Another figure appeared in the mirror, and Hermione spun, startled. But no one was behind her. She turned back to the mirror and saw her future self embracing the young man in the mirror. He had scruffy black hair, and a day's worth of stubble on his chin and cheeks. His eyes were a familiar piercing green.

"Harrison?"

She looked closer at the young man, and saw that it was her dearest friend. The couple in the mirror kissed lovingly, and Harrison spun his Hermione in a dance move that made the older girl laugh gaily.

Hermione's attention was caught by the matching rings on the couple's left hands. Wedding rings.

Her heart was pounding, her mind trying to take in the overload of information. Was this the future that she was seeing? Or a possibility of the future? Were she and Harrison going to be in love with each other one day?

She had to admit that the idea was appealing. Harrison was the best and truest friend she'd ever had. And despite only being twelve years old, she knew in her heart that she would never love another the way she loved her friend. But did that mean that one day they would be married?

Hermione stepped away from the mirror, confused by all that she'd seen. One thing was for sure, she had to bring the boys here so they could see their own reflections in the mirror.

Hermione made her way quickly back to the common room, forgetting about the library for the moment. She wanted to talk to the boys as soon as possible. She chose a spot in front of the fire, an enormous old book resting across her lap. She'd checked it out for a bit of light reading, but hadn't managed to get very far into the book. Actually having friends had seriously decreased the time she would have spent reading had she been by herself. She wasn't complaining, however.

By the time the boys made it back to the common room, Hermione had reached a very interesting chapter about alchemy, which reminded her of her expedition to Quirrell's office yet again.

The subject of alchemy was fascinating, and she wondered what it would be like to be able to turn any metal into gold. Tempting, she realised. Too tempting. The Philosopher's Stone would make a man nearly a god, she thought. And wondered if greed was driving Professor Quirrell to search out its whereabouts.

Harrison and Neville bounded into the common room and made a beeline straight to Hermione. She closed the book and gave them her full attention.

"Who won?" she asked.

"Ravenclaw," Harrison replied. "340 to 120."

"That's a pretty close match really," Hermione said. "I don't see why the snitch is worth so many points. It makes the other players almost superfluous."

"It's been that way for nearly five hundred years," Neville replied. "It'll never change."

Hermione shrugged, and Harrison glanced around the common room that was quickly filling with people now that the Quidditch match was over. Raising his voice so as to make certain he was heard, he said "come on Hermione. How about you put that book down, and come for a walk with Nev and I?"

Hermione mock-pouted her reluctance, but took the book back to her dorm, and then followed the boys outside. They wandered down to the Great Lake and found a spot in the sun, stretching out on the grass away from any other students.

"So," Harrison demanded. "Did you find anything in Quirrell's office? Like why he was trying to kill me?"

"Loads," Hermione replied. She gave them a rundown of Quirrell's areas of research, and watched as their expression ran the gamut from confusion to shock to outrage. She'd felt the same when she'd been reading it.

"So, Quirrell's probably working for You-Know-Who," Harrison stated as Hermione finished.

"Oh! I do know who!" Hermione exclaimed happily. "t was in one of the articles about your family. Lord Voldemort was his name."

"Voldemort?" Harrison repeated.

"It means 'flight from death' in French. I wonder if that should tell us something about the man," Hermione mused.

"Weird name. I wonder if he was actually a Lord. I mean, for real, and not just calling himself one," Neville said. "A lot of old families are actually titled."

"We'll have to look into it. Now that we have a name, it could be easier to trace him."

"So, do you reckon that Quirrell is after this Philosophy Stone?" Harrison asked.

"Philosopher's," Hermione corrected. "And I think so. I think that's what was taken from the Gringotts vault the morning before the break in."

"And that the Stone is what's in the Third Floor corridor? Being protected by a dragon?" Neville asked.

"Or a Cerberus, or possibly another troll," Hermione said. "And...I think its protected by a few other things as well. If we're right, then, that list of Quirrell's is what's between him and the Stone."

"So, Quirrell already knows a lot of the protections," Neville said. "Hagrid's, Sprout's, McGonagall's, Flitwick's, Snapes and his own. He only has to get through one more."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think so. There was nothing about Potions in his folder. I don't think he's got to Professor Snape's trap yet. There's no guarantee that he'd know anything about Potions, and Professor Snape is a Potions Master. He wouldn't have made his trap easy."

The trio sat thoughtfully for several moments.

"Who should we tell?" Harrison asked.

"Dumbledore, maybe?" Neville suggested. "Or McGonagall."

"Professor Snape already knows, and is trying to stop him," Hermione said. "Doesn't that suggest that Dumbledore already knows?"

Harrison narrowed his eyes. "That's not exactly comforting. If Dumbledore knows that Quirrell's trying to get the Stone, why wouldn't he just fire Quirrell?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know."

"Well, we have to tell someone that Quirrell's working for Voldemort. Maybe no one knows that part. Snape might just think that Quirrell wants the Stone for himself," Harrison reasoned.

Hermione nodded. "We'll tell Professor Snape."

"When?" Neville asked.

"Right now," Harrison replied.

Neville winced. He still hadn't lived down the incident from the first potions lesson when he and Ron Weasley had exploded their cauldron and ended up covered in boils. Snape had taken a distinct disliking to him. Not even his friendship with Harrison and Hermione had been able to change Snape's opinion.

He took a deep breath and nodded at his friends. "Alright. Let's go see Snape."

And in all the excitement of discussing Quirrell's true nature, Hermione forgot about the mirror entirely.

000000000000000

A/N: So, this chapter had the bulk of information for the trio in it. Trying to think of a way to get that information to them was very trying. Without Hagrid to 'accidentally' tell them about the Stone and Flamel and about Fluffy meant re-routing a lot of that info to someone else.

I know that this isn't much better than Quirrell's journal, but Quirrell is a scholar; an academic. He would research everything he had to in order to find the best way to go about a problem. Also, in the books, it took him eight months to get through all the traps. Wouldn't it make sense for him to have researched everything he could get his hands on in order to make sure everything went to plan?

Also, we never got to see Hermione's hearts' desire in the books. I always wondered what it was. For a girl who'd never really had any friends before, I thought that her seeing a life-mate would be within the bounds of realism. (Also, it's just fluffy and cute, which is always nice.)


	10. The Potions Master

Hey peeps! Thanks for all your great reviews. If you haven't had a chance, please go back to chapter nine, as I re-wrote the last half. Quirrell's journal is gone, as a few people really didn't like the idea. Anyway, I had to restructure a lot of the story based on the new method of delivery of information that Hermione finds.

**CHAPTER TEN: THE POTIONS MASTER**

Visiting Professor Snape was one of those things that students of Hogwarts rarely did. Being the most unapproachable Professor in Hogwarts history was something that Snape prided himself in being, and made no attempt to discard the title. So, being accosted by a trio of first years was something of an unusual event for the dour man.

Harrison, Hermione and Neville (who hung slightly behind his two friends, hoping to hide from his least favourite professor) knocked on Snape's door about a half hour before dinner. They were admitted into Snape's office, and they nervously told Snape what they had discovered.

He stared at them in silence.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for breaking into a Professor's study," Snape said silkily.

Hermione went to protest, but Harrison elbowed her side. They'd agreed to take whatever punishment came their way, so long as someone knew about what Quirrell was up to.

"While I do not admire the way you discovered this information, it is, nonetheless, knowledge which we is quite useful," Snape said. "Saying that, I will now be locking my rooms with better protection."

Hermione looked down quickly, though she couldn't help but think the Professor was almost teasing.

"You say that you had reason to believe that Professor Quirrell was working in concert with the Dark Lord?"

"Yes sir," Hermione replied. "He was researching Voldemort-"

"Do not say that name, Miss Granger," Snape interrupted sharply.

Hermione swallowed a gasp, but managed to conceal the squeak that threatened to emerge. "Yes sir. Professor Quirrell was researching the Dark Lord's rise and Fall of power. It had a lot of information about uh...Harry Potter. And then there was the rest of his research. About the Cerberus, and a dragon, and something about sharing a soul with a dying spouse. Did Professor Quirrell lose his wife?"

"I will look into it," Snape replied. Though, he was fairly certain he knew exactly who Quirrell was sharing a soul with, and it had nothing to do with a non-existent dead wife.

"He's found his way past a lot of the traps," Harrison said. "What happens when he gets past the rest?"

Snape eyed the boy, noting for the first time that there was very little about James Potter in his face. The eyes were all Lily's, and Snape couldn't recall enough about his childhood adversary to see any part of him in the boy before him. James Potter certainly wouldn't have confided in the most disliked teacher in school.

"The Headmaster is aware that Quirrell is attempting to reach the Stone, however, he is also quite confident in the enchantments surrounding the Stone. He assured us it would be nearly impossible to reach."

"'Nearly impossible'?" Neville repeated incredulously. He clapped a hand over his mouth, remembering he was supposed to be hiding his presence from the intimidating professor.

Snape raised an eyebrow at the boy, who promptly flushed and looked down at his feet.

"Yes, nearly impossible. I doubt anyone with less than pure intentions could get to the Stone."

"Sir, why does he want the Stone so badly?" Hermione asked.

Snape was quiet for many moments. He regarded the trio with a seriousness they hadn't expected.

"Seeing as how Quirrell tried to kill you, Mr Evans, I suppose it would behoove you to know what it is he is willing to kill for. The Stone is the Philosopher's Stone, which is currently owned by-"

"Nicholas Flamel," Hermione said. "That was in Professor Quirrell's research as well.

"Precisely," Snape replied. "An attempt was made on the Stone when it was in Flamel's possession. He put it into Gringotts for safe-keeping, but there were whispers that someone would try to steal it. Dumbledore had it removed from Gringotts and brought here. He then requested that the Professors place a series of traps to guard the item against theft."

Harrison still wasn't entirely sure of what was going on.

"So, what's so great about the Stone?" he asked. "Why would Vol...You-Know-Who be after it?"

"Because it produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal," Hermione explained.

"Immortal?" Neville repeated.

"It means you'll never die," Hermione explained.

"An immortal You-Know-Who...that sounds horrifying," Neville commented.

"You have no idea," Snape said quietly.

Neville looked at the man, seeing something of the grief in the man's eyes. He'd lived through the War, and possibly fought in it. He'd have lost friends and possibly family. There was no one in the generation above their own that hadn't lost someone in the war.

"What happens now?" Hermione asked.

"I take this information to the Headmaster," Snape replied. "From there, it will be out of my hands."

00000000000000

Severus Snape stared incredulously at Albus Dumbledore.

"You're not serious," he accused.

Dumbledore regarded the Potions Master over the top rim of his glasses.

"Safer to know where your enemy is and what he is doing," Dumbledore replied.

"Safer in a school full of children?" Snape said disparagingly. "In the very school that Lily Evans' son is attending, who the Dark Lord wishes to see dead? Yes, that's very safe."

"You do not understand," Dumbledore said sadly, his voice soft and slightly despairing.

"You're bloody right I don't understand," Snape snapped. "Quirrell was researching ways to share his soul! Don't you understand what that means?"

Dumbledore stared steadily at the younger man. "I am well aware."

"You just don't care," Snape said.

"I care very deeply," Dumbledore replied. "Moving the Stone to the school was a calculated risk on my part. If someone were to try to steal it, I would at least know who and where."

"But do nothing to stop them?"

"Quirrell will not be able to get the Stone," Dumbledore said.

Snape wasn't a man for yelling, though he desperately wanted to scream at the Headmaster now. He'd known how arrogant the Headmaster could be, but he hadn't realised how reckless the man was also.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because he is looking in the wrong place," Dumbledore said.

Snape felt as though he'd been punched in the stomach. "Pardon?"

"Where better to hide the Stone than in a place no one will look? I let it be known that the Third Floor corridor is out of bounds, and, behold, that is where people begin their search. I tell the senior staff to place enchantments to protect the Stone, and, you all do so in the belief that the Stone is beyond those traps. Why would I actually put it there when so many people would know exactly where it was?"

Snape hated to admit it, but that was actually very clever of the old man.

"So Quirrell won't find it," the Potions Master was relieved by the news, but still apprehensive in the knowledge of who and what Quirrell played host to. "Better, but still not enough. You must have had suspicions that he was playing host to the spirit of the Dark Lord?"

"Suspicions, yes," Dumbledore replied. "He was not himself after that trip to Albania, and of course, that is where it was rumoured that Lord Voldemort had last been heard of."

"You'd tried to exorcise the spirit?"

"I have tried, though I could not do so without killing Quirinius, and alerting Voldermort to my attempts. I fear that Quirrell is too willing and too far gone to ever come away from this alive."

"And the Dark Lord? What happens when he is strong enough to overtake Quirrell completely?"

"We will be watching," Dumbledore assured him. "Everything is under control Severus. Better to keep the enemy at hand than to have him planning things beyond our reach."

Snape thought that plan would have been better if there wasn't a school full of children at risk. Too much could go wrong. Too much had already gone wrong.

"You'll referee at the next Gryffindor Quidditch match," Dumbledore said. "To ensure that there are no more...accidents."

Snape snarled at the word 'accident', but nodded his agreement. He'd never admit it, but he was rather fond of the boy. He was certainly his mother's son.

"If anything goes wrong, it's on you, Albus," Snape warned. "The parents would have you out in an instant if they knew that you allowed him to stay, knowing what you know."

"But they will not know," Dumbledore said placidly. "Will they?"

000000000000000

Snape wasn't looking forward to the follow-up conversation with Evans and his friends, and felt as though Dumbledore should have been the one to inform the trio of the decision. Thankfully the pre-teens weren't aware of how deeply invested Quirrell truly was in the Dark Lord, and they only believed the DADA Professor to be a servant, not a living host.

"Evans, a word," Snape said, following Friday's lessons. The rest of the class winced in fear at the idea of having to have a word with the Professor. "Granger and Longbottom too."

The rest of the class scampered away quickly so as not to be added to the trio's collective misfortune. When the door closed after the final student left, Snape aimed a spell at the door which would muffle the sounds from inside the room, so as not to have anyone eavesdrop on their conversation.

"I've spoken with the Headmaster," Snape began. "And it has been decided that Professor Quirrell will remain here where we can keep an eye on him."

"You're joking!" Harrison yelped. "He tried to kill me!"

"I'm aware," Snape replied, distaste dripping into his words. "Unfortunately, it was decided that it's better to know where our enemy is so as to be able to keep an eye on him."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "Unbelievable. What happens when Quirrell tries to kill Harrison again?"

"You and Longbottom will be there beside him."

Neville gulped audibly, but straightened his shoulders and pulled himself up to his full height.

"Not on the Quidditch pitch we won't," Hermione argued.

"Which is why I shall be referring the Gryffindor games from now on," Snape replied.

Hermione sighed with relief. "Alright. That's a little better at least. But what about the Stone? If Quirrell gets through the next three traps, he'll be able to grant immortality to You-Know-Who."

"The final trap is more than it seems," Snape said. He'd decided against telling the trio that the Stone wasn't even hidden where Quirrell thought it was. It wasn't that he didn't trust the trio, it was more that the best way to keep a secret was to keep it a secret. "He will not get the Stone even if he makes it past the final stage."

The trio exchanged unhappy glances, but Harrison eventually looked back to Snape and nodded compliantly. "Well, at least you know what's happening, sir," he said softly. "I feel a lot less stressed."

"You're eleven, Mister Evans, you shouldn't be stressed at all. Let Professor Dumbledore and I handle this. Don't even give it another thought. Christmas is coming and the holidays should give you a chance to get away from all this."

"Yes sir," Harrison said. At the mention of Christmas, he had another thought cross his mind. "Professor, do you have any idea if we're doing alright in class? Only, I'm a little worried as to how well we're doing compared with the other houses."

Snape detected a tiny amount of dishonesty, but saw no reason not to give him the answer. "You and Miss Granger are currently ranked second and first respectively, over all in my class of First Years. Mr Longbottom, you however, have a fair bit of work to do. Of the thirty-four First Year students you are ranked twenty-first."

Harrison high-fived Hermione and grinned happily at their teacher. "Thanks sir."

Neville was thrilled that he wasn't coming last, or anywhere near it, and gave the Professor a shy smile. The trio made their way up from the dungeons towards the Great Hall for lunch.

"What was that about Harris?" Neville asked.

"Remember that wager Malfoy and I made on the first of September?"

Neville nodded. "How could anyone forget? You bet your wand that you'd have higher grades by Christmas. Ooooh. I get it. Well, you're certainly beating him in Potions. And I know Malfoy is terrible at Transfiguration, while you two are leading the way in every lesson."

"Heh, Malfoy's wand will be mine!" Harrison crowed.

Hermione looked at her best friend askance. "If you had a moustache, you'd be twirling it and cackling right now. That frightens me a little."

Harrison grinned and put his hands together, fingertips touching. "Muhahaha."

Neville shuddered playfully. "Now that's scary."

00000000000000

A/N: This chapter was a little harder to write. JKR didn't give us much more in terms of what the professors were up to in book one. Canon tells us that Snape knew what was going on, and that he was trying to stop Quirrell from getting the Stone. Dumbledore must have known everything that was happening, but how the hell did he justify it to his staff? Did none of them wonder why they were playing host to such a coveted item? Snape knew Quirrell had tried to kill Harry, so why wasn't Quirrell fired? Seriously! So irresponsible of Dumbledore.


	11. The Train

Hi guys, my apologies for a late update. I have been so extremely enthralled with reading 'The Hunger Games' that I haven't even turned my computer on since Monday. Holy smoke that series took my breath away. Two more months til the film comes out! Huzzah!

**CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE TRAIN**

The final Friday before holidays came around quickly, and the school was buzzing with excitement. The Hogwarts Express would be leaving just after lunch, taking those who wanted to spend the time with their families back to London. Harrison, Hermione and Neville were all packed and brimming with anticipation. The thought of seeing their families again after three months without seeing them was more exciting than the thought of Christmas.

The Great Hall was packed with students as they ate heartily before the journey on the Hogwart Express. It was a long trip, and food would be limited to whatever they took with them, and the trolley on the Express that sold mostly sweets.

"I can't believe it's been nearly four months since we've seen them," Hermione said. "I can't decide if it feels like it's been longer."

"Definitely longer," Harrison said. "I'll bet Dud spent his whole time practicing Street Fighter."

"Your brother street fights?" Neville asked incredulously.

Harrison laughed. "No! It's a video game. He never used to be able to beat me, but I bet he can now. I'm really out of practice."

Hermione shook her head. "Boys," she muttered.

Harrison grinned. He was definitely going to miss his two friends, though he knew he would miss Hermione the most. They'd exchanged phone numbers and addresses, and worked out that they didn't live that far part. Too far to walk, unfortunately, but no more than about a twenty-five minute drive. They were certain that their parents would allow them to visit during the two week Christmas break.

"I'll owl you both," Neville promised.

"Maybe I should have got mum to buy an owl," Harrison mused.

"What for? Mine'll wait for a reply," Neville said. "And you guys get to talk on the phone. It's only two weeks."

Harrison nodded slowly. Two weeks didn't sound like long, but he had a feeling that it would seem like ages once he was actually at home. Then again, he did want to see his brother. Letter writing wasn't really Dudley's strong suit.

At the front of the Great Hall, Dumbledore stood and commanded the attention of the entire school. A hush fell over the gathered students as Dumbledore stepped up to the dais.

"Good afternoon, one and all," Dumbledore said quietly. "Now, for end of term announcements, I have only a few. The first being that the students who are staying will be required to partake in meals in the Great Hall, and not just remain in their common rooms. To those whom are leaving us, the Hogwarts Express will be departing in precisely ninety-three minutes. The carriages to Hogsmeade will be departing in front of the Entrance Hall in forty-six minutes. Therefore, to those who have not finished packing, I suggest you go and do so now."

There was a rush from more than fifty students who stood and ran from the room. A light bout of laughter came from the more prepared students.

"To those who are far more organised, I will bid you to gather your belongings and meet in the Entrance Hall. And to all of my students, I wish you a very Happy Christmas."

With that, the student body erupted into motion, students saying goodbye to those who were staying for the holidays, and others dispersing to go and gather luggage.

Harrison, Hermione and Neville drifted up the stairs behind the rest of the Gryffindor group. Once they'd gathered their trunks, Hermione spelled them to be lighter, and they managed to make their way down several flights of stairs. The students were helped into horseless carriages that made their way from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade, the wizarding village that was quite close to the school.

Harrison noticed that Neville kept glancing nervously at the front of the carriage, where horses typically would be.

"What's wrong Nev?"

Neville swallowed nervously. "I don't like the look of the horses, is all."

Hermione and Harrison shared a worried look.

"What horses?" Hermione asked.

Neville pointed a shaking finger at the black winged creature pulling the carriage.

"Nev...there's nothing there," Harrison said.

"T-there is," Neville replied. "Black...winged...it looks like the horse that Death would ride."

Hermione knew that her friend wouldn't lie about something like this, and he seemed far too shaky to be trying to pull a joke on them. She carefully went through her mental knowledge bank, trying to come up with an explanation for why Neville would be able to see something that she and Harrison couldn't.

"Thestrals!" Hermione shouted.

The boys looked at her, startled by her outburst and the volume of it.

"What?"

"Thestrals," she replied, more calmly this time. "They're a lot like horses in appearance, but they have wings, and they can fly. They also can't be seen by people who haven't witnessed a death."

Harrison patted Nevile's shoulder compassionately. "That's really rough mate. Who was it?"

"My grandfather," Neville replied. "About two years ago. He died peacefully, but I was with him to the end."

Hermione patted Neville's arm consolingly. "They may look really frightening, but all the literature I've read said that they're actually very gentle."

Neville nodded, still a little apprehensive, but he firmly put the creatures out of his mind. That was made easier when the carriages pulled in to Hogsmeade, and the students all clambered to get onto the Express.

The trio chose a cabin towards the middle of the train, and settled in for the long journey home.

"Are you going to ask your mum if she knew about the whole BWL thing?" Neville asked Harry.

"BWL?" Hermione repeated.

"Boy-Who-Lived," Neville translated. "BWL's faster."

"Not when you have to explain it, it isn't," Harrison teased.

Neville pulled a face at his friend, and looked at him pointedly. "So...are you?"

"I'll ask," Harrison replied. "I really don't think she knew. When I got the invitation to attend, she told me everything she knew about Hogwarts, which wasn't much, but I didn't get the feeling that she knew anything else."

"She may not have," Hermione said. "Not a lot of wizards would bother explaining things to muggles."

"Well, I plan on explaining just about everything to mum and Dud. I don't think my letters were really doing Hogwarts justice."

"What if they ask to see you do magic?"

"Well, we're not allowed, so it doesn't really matter," Hermione said.

"Weird when you think about it," Harrison said. "I tried a few spells with my wand before going to Hogwarts, and I never got in any trouble for it."

"Me neither," Hermione added. "And I was using it for nearly a year. I wonder if it would be worth trying it anyway to find out what happens."

"My Gran would go mental if she caught me doing magic at home," Neville said. "My wand will probably get locked up in the cabinet it used to be displayed in."

"Displayed in?" Hermione asked.

Neville nodded. "It belonged to my father," he explained. "He uh...he isn't..."

"It's alright Nev, you can tell us," Harrison prompted gently.

Neville sighed. "He's in St Mungo's Hospital. In the Incurable Cases ward. He and my mother were tortured when I was a baby, and they...lost their minds. They've been in St Mungo's ever since. Gran gave me dad's wand to use, but...you've seen me, I'm hopeless."

Harrison tilted his head to the side, remembering a conversation he'd had with a very odd wizard nearly six months ago.

"But the wand chooses the wizard," Harrison said.

"What?" Neville asked.

"It's what the wandmaker, Ollivander, said to me when I was getting my wand."

"He said it to me too," Hermione confirmed.

"So...not everyone's wand will work for everyone else, is that what you mean?" Neville queried.

Harrison nodded. "I tried about a hundred different wands before I found one that would work for me."

Ollivander, being one of the first wizards he'd ever met, had scared the living daylights out of Harrison the day he'd gone into Diagon Alley. The wand that had chosen Harrison was the 'brother wand' of the Dark Lord. His mum had cut the man off before he'd been able to say anything further, but Harrison now wondered what else he'd been going to say.

The information about his wand being the 'brother' of Lord Voldemort's hadn't made too much of an impact on him at the time, but now that he knew so much more about the war, and about his part in Voldemort's downfall, he wondered if it was somehow significant that their two wands be linked.

"If you're using someone else's wand, then it's no wonder your spells aren't as strong as other people's," Hermione said.

Neville stared at them in shock. "I can't believe that. Why wouldn't Gran have known that?"

"Maybe she forgot," Hermione offered. "I suppose it's not really something most witches or wizards need to know after the first time they buy a wand."

"Wow. How in Merlin's name can I get her to take me for a new wand?"

"Well, tell her that you were researching, and came across the phrase 'the wand chooses the wizard', and ask her if that's true," Hermione suggested. "Then, maybe suggest a visit to Ollivander's. If you find a compatible wand, then she may buy it for you."

Neville smiled widely. "Fantastic! This is brilliant. Maybe I can ask for it for Christmas, so she wouldn't feel strange about just buying a new one."

"That's a great idea," Hermione enthused.

"And, if all else fails, I'll have a shiny new wand come first of the new term," Harrison said. "I bet Malfoy's wand would work wonders in the hands of a real wizard."

Neville snickered at the thought of Draco Malfoy's reaction to seeing his wand in Neville's hands.

"You're not really going to take his wand, are you?" Hermione asked.

Harrison shrugged. "Why not?"

"Because it's cruel!" she replied. "It...it feels like bullying."

Harrison's smug expression faded. Now that Hermione had said it, it did seem like bullying. And he hated that. He sighed loudly. "That sucks."

"You have to admit, if Malfoy had done better than Harris, he'd have taken Harris's wand in a heartbeat," Neville pointed out.

"That's true," Hermione conceded. "But, imagine how that would have made you feel."

Harrison sighed. "Like crap."

"Exactly."

"Fine, I won't take his wand," Harrison said. "But, I get bragging rights over the fact that I _could_ have taken his wand."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Just don't hold it over his head for all of next year."

"Agreed."

Neville shook his head. "He would never have let you forget if you'd lost."

"Yeah, well, we're better than he is anyway. Can I at least taunt him today and make him think I'll take it come first of the new term? Just think about it as payback for a whole terms worth of being a git."

"That's really mean," Neville said. He paused, and then grinned. "I love it."

0000000000000000000

Petunia Evans stood on Platform 9¾, waiting anxiously for the arrival of the Hogwarts Express. Her eldest son Dudley stood beside her, shifting his weight from foot to foot, checking his wristwatch every few seconds.

"It's due in less than a minute," he reminded her.

"I know, Dudders."

It had been a long three months for the Evans family. Letting her youngest son go away to boarding school hadn't been an easy decision for Petunia Evans, even though she knew how much her own sister had enjoyed the experience of Hogwarts.

But having Harrison attend wasn't something she'd really prepared herself for. Perhaps she'd been purposefully ignoring the idea ever since she'd formally adopted the boy, but when the Hogwarts letter had arrived by owl, she'd been stunned.

Harrison had been an even-tempered child, and hadn't displayed too many bouts of accidental magic. Besides the incident with his teacher's wig, and the shrinking jumper from Aunt Marge, Harrison hadn't shown any other signs.

When Petunia had stopped to truly think it through, she was almost a little surprised that Dudley hadn't been accepted into Hogwarts as well. In fact, the very reason that her former husband, Vernon Dursley, had been so against Harrison becoming part of their family was because he was worried that Dudley would be 'infected' with magic.

Petunia looked at her eldest son, who suddenly smiled as widely as she'd ever seen. The train was in view of the platform and Dudley pointed at it frantically.

"It's nearly here!"

Harrison had changed her family so much. When he'd first been dropped on her doorstep ten years ago, she hadn't been prepared to accept him into her family. There had been so much animosity between herself and Lily after it had become clear that Petunia was not magically inclined. Between Lily's gift and Petunia's jealousy, the rift between the sisters had come to such a point that neither had attended the other's wedding.

News of Harry Potter's birth had been filtered through their parents, much the same as Dudley Dursley's had gone to Lily and her new family. Petunia hadn't given much more thought to her nephew until the night he was left on her front doorstep.

Shamefully, she recalled the way she'd allowed her former husband to treat the infant boy. He'd been given Dudley's cast-off clothing, despite the fact that they were usually too big, and on the verge of needing to be thrown out. Harry's cot had been a laundry basket with a pillow, and Vernon had never once held the child in his arms.

Petunia had followed Vernon's lead, allowing her jealousy of Lily to transfer onto her infant son. She'd barely acknowledged the child, and had paid him only scant attention. She'd fed and clothed him, but the neglect that she'd been guilty of was atrocious. Looking back on those first few years of the boys presence in their house was agonising to think of.

When it had become clear that Dudley was extremely sick, everything had changed. Petunia had taken him to doctors, and then to oncologists, learning of her sons' leukaemia and the very real threat that he could die if not treated immediately.

Petunia and Vernon had been tested to see if they would be matches for blood transfusions and bone marrow transplants, but neither of the Dursley's had been Dudley's perfect match. When the doctor asked if there were any other blood relatives, though, Petunia had thought of Harry.

She'd taken him in for testing straight away, not even bothering to tell Vernon that she was doing so. She'd been surprised to learn that Harry was Dudley's perfect match. He could donate blood, bone marrow and even stem cells to help in Dudley's recovery. She'd told the doctors to do whatever was necessary, starting that very day.

Vernon, however, was furious.

No child of his was going to take blood from 'that freak of nature'. What if the 'freakiness' leaked into Dudley? What if their son ended up like Lily and her slacker husband? He would never let Harry's blood 'contaminate' Dudley.

Petunia, however, didn't care. If Dudley could get better with the help of blood and bone marrow taken from Harry, then, she would do anything to see that happen.

That had been the beginning of the end for the Dursley family.

But, it had also been the start for the Evans'.

"Mum!"

The train had pulled into the station, she could see an indigo bandana on the head of her son, who was racing towards her at full speed. She barely had time to brace herself for impact as her eleven year old son crashed into her, hugging her tightly. Her arms went around him, squeezing him tightly. She pressed a kiss to his bandana and indulged herself in a long hug.

"I missed you!" Harrison enthused. He stepped back and looked up at her, a grin on his lips.

"I missed you too Harrison," she replied.

He hugged her again fiercely and then stepped back. He and Dudley exchanged a complicated looking handshake that ended in a hug.

"D."

"H."

The boys slung an arm over and around the others' shoulders, and looked for all the world, like regular brothers.

"Harrison!"

Petunia turned at the sound of her sons name on the lips of a girl who looked about twelve.

"Hermione! Come meet my family," he said brightly.

The bushy haired pre-teen dodged around the crowded platform, and came to rest in front of the Evans trio. She huffed and put her hands on her hips. Petunia stifled a smile. The girl reminded her of a very young Lily.

"You shouldn't run off like that," Hermione reprimanded her best friend. "You could have broken your neck. Honestly!"

Harrison grinned and Dudley punched his brothers arm. "How many times does that make it this week?"

"Seven," Harrison replied.

"Seven what?" Hermione demanded.

"Nothing, 'Mione, nothing. This is my mum," Harrison gestured.

Hermione's scowl dropped instantly, and she smiled up at Harrison's mother. "Mrs Evans, it's a pleasure," she said politely, and held out her hand.

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss Granger," Petunia replied, smiling fondly. Harrison's letters had been filled with talk of his new best friend. She was a little surprised to keep reading the name Hermione, and wondered if her son was developing his first crush. She was just glad that this girl seemed to be enough to keep up with her son.

"And this is Dudley," Harrison continued.

"I've heard everything about you Dudley," Hermione said, shaking his hand.

"Same here," Dudley replied. "Haitch doesn't talk about anything else."

Hermione blushed lightly. "I'm sure he has better things to write about than me."

"Oh, I doubt that," came the voice of a puffing pre-teen as he came up behind the group.

"Neville!" Harrison chastised. "I write about other stuff. I wrote about Quidditch the other day."

"You did too," Dudley said. "How'd it go again?...oh yeah. '_Dear Dud, Hermione came to watch our first Quidditch game against Slytherin today_._'_"

"That's not at all what I wrote," Harrison argued, his cheeks blushing bright pink

"Stop teasing your brother," Petunia refereed. "Neville, it's nice to finally meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, Mrs Evans. Happy Christmas!"

"Happy Christmas to you too," she replied. "Are your parents here?"

Neville's face fell. "Uh, no," he replied softly. "My grandmother's over there. She's the one with the stuffed vulture on her hat."

Petunia glanced across the platform and found the unique headwear. She waved to the older woman, gesturing for her to come join them.

"And your parents, Hermione?"

"I haven't found them yet," she admitted.

Harrison knelt down and patted his shoulder. "Hop on, and see if you can spot them."

"Harrison! No!"

"Come on, it'll be faster," he insisted.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but stepped towards him. Dudley and Neville helped to steady her as she straddled the back of Harrison's neck. He slowly got to his feet, and Hermione scanned the platform for her parents. When she spotted them, she waved frantically until she caught their attention. She patted Harrison's shoulder to let him know they had seen her and were coming to meet her.

Dudley and Neville helped her off Harrison's shoulders and the group greeted Mrs Longbottom and the Doctors Granger as they arrived.

As the adults introduced themselves, the pre-teens huddled in a circle, awaiting the moment they would be split up.

"Which one's Malfoy?" Dudley asked curiously.

The group looked around the platform and spotted the Slytherin's signature white-blond hair.

"We're just going to say goodbye to a classmate," Harrison called out to the adults. The foursome waved the group off, and the newly formed foursome darted through the crowd and headed towards Draco Malfoy who stood a little apart from a group of adults, two of whom every obviously his parents.

"Hey Draco," Harrison greeted cordially.

Malfoy's nose turned up in a sneer. "What do you want, mudblood?"

"Just thought I'd say hello," Harrison said with a grin. "And to say to enjoy your last few days with _my_ wand."

"What are you on about?" Malfoy demanded.

"Don't you remember?" Harrison taunted. "First day of term. We bet that whoever was coming ahead of the other would win their opponents wand. Well, I decided to let you keep it over the holidays. Come first day of next term, that wand in your pocket will be _mine_. Consider it my Christmas gift to you."

Draco's face paled significantly. He swivelled his head to ensure his parents hadn't heard them. Neither of the adults had twitched, and he turned back to Harrison, hatred in his eyes.

"You'll have to pry it from my dead hands," Draco said.

Harrison laughed lightly. "Oh don't worry, Malfoy. Once it gets around school that you welched on a wizard's bet, you'll wish you'd given it to me."

Draco's lips twitched angrily.

"See you at school," Harrison said, before turning and walking away.

The group barely made it seven steps before stopping and bursting into laughter.

"Sweet Merlin, did you see his face?" Neville chortled happily. "He looked like he'd swallowed a turd."

"Neville! That's disgusting," Hermione said. She held out for a moment before giggling a little. "Accurate though."

Dudley shook his head. "You were right about his shiny hair," he told his brother. "And his shiny shoes."

"Told ya," Harrson replied.

They made their way back to their parents and guardians, and sadly said their farewells. Hermione and Harrison promised to keep in touch by phone, and Neville promised to owl the both of them. Sadness tinged with excitement at seeing their families, and the Gryffindor trio parted ways for the first time in weeks. Hermione took a final look at her best friend, and sadly waved goodbye to the first true friend she'd ever had.

"Happy Christmas," she whispered as she finally lost sight of him in the crowd.

She only had to make it through two weeks before she would see him again. She was fairly certain that it would be the longest two weeks of her life.

000000000000000

A/N: So, next chappie is Christmas at the Evans' place. I'm doing a little re-writing of a few bits and pieces, so I apologise if the next update isn't tomorrow after all.

Also, Happy Australia Day for tomorrow to everyone who hails from my homeland.

Aussie, Aussie, Aussie!


	12. The Presents

Hey people, how's things. To all my fellow Aussies, I hope you enjoyed your Aussie Day, despite the dodgy weather. This chapter comes with a bonus, which I wrote the other night. I decided that you don't get to see enough of Dudley in this story, so, his section is quite new. Enjoy! Also, sorry for the lateness, I tried to upload yesterday, but it wouldn't let me. :(

**CHAPTER TWELVE: THE PRESENTS**

Four days after the train ride home from Hogwarts, Harrison sat beside his brother, staring up at the Christmas tree that they'd decorated the day he'd arrived home. Present lay scattered beneath the boughs, and both boys were impatient to open the gifts awaiting them.

Petunia entered the room, Santa hat jauntily atop her head, camera in hand.

"Aww, mum!" both boys complained on seeing the camera.

"It's tradition," she insisted.

The boys sighed simultaneously, and rolled their eyes. They turned to face their mum who set up the camera on a tripod and set the timer. She raced behind the boys, dropped a Santa hat on top of each head, and knelt between her two sons.

The boys grinned for the camera, despite their reluctance, they would comply with their mother's wish for Christmas.

The flash went off, and Petunia clapped excitedly. "Alright boys, Happy Christmas!"

"Happy Christmas, mum," Harrison and Dudley replied.

"Alright, Dudley, if you could do the honours, please?"

Dudley grinned and dived towards the presents. He whooped with delight as the first one he pulled out was for himself. He shook it gently until Harrison gave him a shove.

"Keep going!"

Dudley rolled his eyes, but set the gift aside.

"Alright, this one's for mum," Dudley said, handing her the scruffily wrapped box. Petunia took it with a smile and read the name tags scrawling writing. Harrison's penmanship always had been atrocious.

"Thank you Harrison," she said.

Harrison grinned. "Welcome!"

Dudley kept handing out the gifts until each of the Evans sat with a pile of goodies in front of them

"Alright, let's go," Petunia said.

The boys dived into their gifts, wrapping paper flying everywhere.

"Sweet!" "Awesome!"

"Thanks mum!"

"That one's from Santa!" "MUM! Santa? Really?"

"Ohhh, shiny!"

"Aw, man. Socks and underwear?"

"Heh, new bandanas!" "Yours are really starting to smell." "Gross." "Precisely."

Amidst the laughter and the sounds of paper being ripped, the Evans managed to run through all of the gifts beneath the tree. A new video player for the boys to share, as well as a few movies on tape had been their main gift. Petunia was finding it harder to buy for her sons now that they were of an age when toys were no longer appreciated quite so much. The new Lego sets and Transformers were appreciated.

Petunia's gift from Harrison was an assortment of wizarding sweets that he'd asked the Weasley twins to pick up in Hogsmeade village for him. There was also a scarf in Gryffindor colours, and a set of bananas for her from both boys.

"Oh, I nearly forgot!" Petunia cried, and shot to her feet. She hurried from the room, and came back holding a parcel wrapped in silky silver material.

"This came for Harrison, via owl. It must be from one of your new friends," Petunia said.

Harrison took it gently, and read the attached card.

"_Harry._ _Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well._"

"Use it well? That's a weird thing to say about a cloak," Dudley said.

Harrison shrugged. The writing was the same as had been on his initial Hogwarts invitation. None of the professors called him Harry, so he wondered if perhaps it had come from Headmaster Dumbledore. Having never had a conversation with the man, he had no idea if the wizard would address him by his birth name, or by his chosen name.

"Put it on, then," Petunia insisted. "I'll get a picture of you in it."

Harrison shrugged, but gamely stood up and slung the cloak around his shoulders. He was met with gasps and a choking sound from his brother. He looked down at himself, only to find his body seemed to have vanished!

"I'm invisible!" he cried.

"Holy shit!"

"Dudley!" Petunia scolded. "Language."

"Sorry, but...holy smoke!"

Harrison lifted the cloak above his head, and enjoyed the feeling of knowing that he couldn't be seen. He crept up behind his mother and blew a cold breath onto her neck, jumping back when she swatted at the invasion. He laughed and pulled the cloak off.

"This is awesome!" Harrison enthused. "Think of all the trouble I could get into."

Petunia scowled. She could well imagine the sort of trouble her son could get himself into with a cloak that made him invisible. What kind of person gave an eleven year old an invisibility cloak? She sighed unhappily.

"This belonged to my father?" Harrison re-read. "Wow...this is...well, the first thing I've ever had of his."

Petunia sighed softly. It wasn't often that Harrison brought up his birth parents. She'd tried to tell him as much about Lily as she could, but, having never met James Potter, it had been hard to teach him anything about the man.

"Mum...I've been meaning to ask, but, I didn't really know how to bring it up. Did you know that I'm famous in the wizarding world?" Harrison asked. "I mean...not, _me_, exactly, but Harry Potter is a household name."

Petunia looked at him quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"Harry Potter. His name is almost...well, I hate to use the comparison, especially on Christmas day and all, but he's a bit like Jesus."

"Dude, that's a little extreme," Dudley said.

"I know! But that's what it's like there. They practically worship the name. They call him the Boy-Who-Lived."

Dudley snorted with laughter. "What a dumbass name."

Harrison grinned. At least he wasn't the only one who thought so.

"Why do they call you..._him_ that?" Petunia asked.

"Well, you remember the wizarding war? The one my birth parents died in. Anyway, according to all the stories, this really evil wizard Voldemort came to kill the Potters. He killed Aunt Lily and my dad, and then he tried to kill me. But something happened. Instead of killing me, it destroyed him, and I was left with the lightning bolt scar. Everyone knows about the scar, and everyone thinks that Harry Potter is a hero or something."

Petunia felt breathless, taking in her sons' story. It seemed implausible, but she remembered something that she'd been warned about a decade ago.

"Wait here," she whispered, and left the boys beside the brightly decorated Christmas tree.

She returned moments later with a shoe-box, the edges tattered and fraying. She opened the lid and took out an old blue blanket. Harrison reached for it, running his fingers over the embroidery sewn into the top right corner. It was a family crest that read 'Potter' in old-fashioned script.

Petunia pulled out a bundle of letters and found the first of them.

"This was left with you, when you first came to me," Petunia said.

Harrison took it with shaking hands. He recognised the writing to be the same as from the note with the invisibility cloak.

"'_Dear Petunia, _

_I write to you to ask that you take this boy, your sister's son, into your home to raise as you would your own. Terrible events have taken place in your sister's world that have left young Lily, and her husband James dead. Harry is the last in the line of Potter's, and already his name is being heralded as the saviour of the wizarding world. I fear that raising him amongst his own kind will only hinder him in the long run. _

_Raise him away from the hype, and away from the fame that will surely run wild for years to come. Raise him with love, and with humility, and with a strong sense of right and wrong. He must be kept from this world until it is his time to attend Hogwarts. The name Harry Potter will be on every wizard's tongue for decades to come. It is no way for a child to be raised. I can only hope that you will give him the home and family that his own parents no longer can._

_Yours, Albus Dumbledore.'_"

"That's all he ever really said," Petunia said. "That you would be famous. Harrison...I wish I'd thought to tell you. Ten years ago, Dumbledore thought that you would be famous. It's one of the many reasons that I changed your name. When you were accepted to Hogwarts, it never occurred to me that Harry Potter would still be famous. Because you aren't 'Harry Potter' to me."

"Nor to me," Harrison said. "Only Hermione and Neville even know the truth. I'm just Harrison to everyone else. They want to worship the Boy-Who-Lived as the messiah, and I just want to finish First Year."

"Harrison, you can be whoever you want to be," Petunia said. "If you want to tell people that you were born Harry Potter, then that's up to you."

Harrison shook his head. "My name is Harrison Evans," he replied firmly. "You raised me as your son, and I'm not about to throw that away to use a name that doesn't mean anything to me."

Petunia hugged her son fiercely. Dudley held back for a moment, before he shrugged and tackled his brother and mother in a combined hug. Petunia kissed both her sons' yellow-clad heads.

"Come on...who wants Christmas lunch?"

00000000000

Dudley Evans never really looked forward to Boxing Day. He'd much rather be spending the day with his family, playing video games with Harrison, or eating leftovers with his mum, rather than having to sit through a formal lunch with his Aunt Marge, and his father Vernon Dursley.

Sitting at the table, which had been colour co-ordinated to a gold and silver theme this year, Dudley yanked impatiently at the tie surrounding his neck. He scowled unhappily. Harrison didn't have to wear a tie. And he got to go and visit his friend, Hermione.

Meanwhile, Dudley had to sit through his father bad-mouthing Harrison, and his mum.

"Can't believe that you're at that dreadful school. Stonewall Academy, isn't it?" Marge asked.

Dudley nodded. "It's a great school. I'm doing really well in classes."

"Great school, my eye," Vernon huffed. "You should have been at Smeltings, like I was."

This was a familiar argument from his father.

"Well, we never know how many weeks I'll get to attend, dad," Dudley said. "We're better off saving the money for bills and stuff then sending me to Smeltings."

Vernon's eyes narrowed dangerously. "And how is your 'treatment' going?"

Dudley forced himself not to roll his eyes.

"It's fine dad. The doctors are saying that I'm doing really well. I've been in remission for nearly six months now."

"All thanks to that good for nothing donor of yours, I take it."

"If you're talking about Harrison-"

"Hah! Harrison, indeed. His parents didn't name him anything quite so fancy. Petunia only changed it because she was so ashamed at how common it sounded," Marge interjected.

Dudley winced, and he felt an aggravated tic twitch his right eye.

"My brother saved my life," Dudley defended.

"He is _not_ your brother!" Vernon yelled.

Dudley flew out of his seat, not even caring as the backing hit the floor. He planted his hands on the table and stared defiantly at his father.

"If it wasn't for Harrison, I would be dead."

"He could have infected you with that magical namby pamby of his," Vernon argued.

"I wish he had!" Dudley cried.

Vernon fell silent, and he stared at his son in disbelief. "What?"

Dudley gathered up his courage and kept his eyes on his father. "I wish that's how it worked," he said. "I wish his blood _had_ made me magical. I wish I could be at Hogwarts with him."

Vernon turned roughly the colour of a tomato, and he stared incredulously at his son.

He'd known the instant that Harry Potter had been found on the Dursley's doorstep that taking him in would ruin their family. Every problem he'd had in the last ten years stemmed from that decision. His family had fallen apart, his marriage had disintegrated, and things at work were going poorly. He was certain that he'd have been offered the promotion if he'd had a wife and child at home to brag about to his bosses.

Harry Potter was the bane of his existence. And his son wanted to be like _him_.

"You don't know what it's like," Dudley said. "Being the one who's sick all the time. Being the one who has to rely on everyone else for even the simplest things. Some days it's all I can do to get out of bed. And other days are great. This is the best I've felt in years, and I know in my gut that it's because of Harrison. So, you can hate him all you like, but he is my brother, and I wish I could do what he can. I wish I was magical."

Vernon's eyes seemed to get rounded at each of Dudley's proclamations. Marge stared at the boy as though he were a particularly ugly alien that had landed in the living room.

"You don't know what you're saying."

"Yes I do," Dudley replied. "I know exactly what I'm saying. I wish my life could be like his."

"Well it can't," Marge said cruelly.

"I know," Dudley replied. "And mostly I'm okay with that. But I hate being the one left behind. I only get two weeks with my brother, and I have to waste a day of it here.

Vernon and Marge were shocked speechless by the suggestion that their company was undesirable.

"In that case, I think we should call it a day. I'll call your mother, and arrange for her to pick you up," Marge said, hoping to get a rise out of Dudley, and have him beg to be allowed to stay.

Dudley smiled. "That'd be great." He held out a slip of paper with a phone number on it that Harrison had given him. 'Just in case.' "This is the number."

00000000000000000

An hour later, Harrison, Hermione and Dudley were seated cross-legged on Hermione's bedroom floor. A Monopoly board was stretched between them, and Dudley was gleefully counting the pile of money at his feet. Harrison apprehensively rolled the dice and moved the race car around the board. He groaned dramatically as he landed on Park Lane.

Dudley gleefully informed him of how much rent he had to pay, and Harrison put together the fee, handing it over with a sense of resignation.

"I told you, there's no beating Dudley at this game," Harrison said.

Hermione stared at the board, not entirely certain how Dudley had become so rich in such a short space of time. She'd bought a lot of properties herself, but Dudley had traded with the other two for properties that had seemed worthless, but that had completed his collection of colours. He'd invested in houses, and then hotels, and had managed to own the entire home-stretch leading to the 'Go' square.

Every time either Harrison or Hermione's pieces went around the final corner, Dudley became richer.

Hermione took her turn, and thankfully landed on one of her own properties. She took the time to buy a few hotels, and to try to bargain with Dudley for the final card that would complete the set of red properties she owned. Dudley was steadfast in his refusal.

After the next few turns it was clear that Dudley was well ahead, and that neither Harrison nor Hermione could make any type of comeback. Dudley was crowned winner, and the trio moved on to a game of Scrabble.

Needless to say, Hermione beat the pants off the Evans' brothers.

By the time it came for the boys to return home, Dudley had forgotten about the confrontation with his father. Boxing Day had finally become something that he could remember without cringing, and he'd even managed to beat his brother fair and square in front of his brother's girlfriend. Dudley smirked. Getting Harrison to blush bright red was not only fun, it was funny as well. He scored himself bonus points if his comments could make Hermione turn pink as well.

All in all, Dudley thought, it was a day well spent.

000000000000

A/N: So, this was mostly written on Christmas Eve of 2011. I'd been stalled on this chapter for weeks, but it seems all I needed was a bit of Christmas spirit. And hanging out at mum's with no internet connection. Hence, writing.

Dudley's half was written exactly a month after Christmas day. What is it about the 24th/25th of a month that is so good for writing?

Anyway, if all goes well this weekend, I should be going to see the Harry Potter Exhibition at the Sydney Powerhouse Museum. Squee! *ahem*


	13. The Return

Hi everybody! This chapter is one of the longest of the story, so I hope you don't get too overloaded on information. Thanks for all your great reviews, and your encouragement to keep going with the series. I give no guarantees in regards to the other books, but I have started the first chapter of book two. But, no promises. We'll see how my inspiration pans out.

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE RETURN**

Returning to Hogwarts was a bittersweet experience for Harrison Evans. On one hand, he got to see his friends again. On the other, he'd been reminded of just how much he'd missed his family. Seeing them for two weeks at Christmas just wasn't enough. He wouldn't get to see them again until the Easter holidays in April.

Then again, upon seeing Hermione and Neville, Harrison was reminded of how much he loved being at Hogwarts.

"Nev! 'Mione!"

The two Gryffindors turned and waved at their friend as he trotted across the platform. He'd said his goodbyes to his mother and brother, and headed through the barrier between platforms nine and ten at Kings Cross station. Leaving them on the other side of the platform had felt somehow symbolic.

"Happy New Year Harris!" Neville said.

"Same to you," Harrison replied. "And you Hermione."

"I missed you," Hermione grinned happily and hugged her best friend. "...both. I missed both of you."

Neville hid a snicker behind his hand, and then glanced at his friends innocently when they turned questioning looks at him.

"Hmm? We should find a carriage."

Harrison rolled his eyes, but followed along behind Neville as they found an empty compartment and took their seats.

"Did you enjoy the rest of your holiday?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, it was great," Harrison replied. "You?"

"Nothing like Boxing Day," Hermione admitted. "What about you, Neville?"

Neville shrugged. "It was alright."

His friends stared at him, a gentle inquiry in their eyes. He sighed softly.

"Every Christmas, Gran and I go visit my mum and dad in St Mungo's. They don't recognise me at all, so...it's not a very happy holiday. Gran tries, and I'm grateful for her, but...it's just not the same."

"I'm sorry, Neville," Hermione said softy, laying her hand on his forearm.

"Thanks. Anyway, sorry to bring everyone down," Neville said. "Besides, there was one good thing about Christmas this year. Gran took me to Ollivander's, and I got a new wand."

He took it out from his pocket, and showed the new wand to his friends. It was clean, and obviously well cared for.

"That's great!" Hermione cried. "How'd you convince her?"

"Well, I told her about how poorly I was doing in Transfiguration, and how someone I really respected said that the 'wand chooses the wizard'. And then she got this really distant look on her face, and she kind of laughed a little. She said she'd forgotten about that," Neville explained.

"So she took you to Ollivander's? Fantastic," Harrison said.

"Yeah. It's a great wand. Ten inches, maple, with a core of dragon heartstring. I'm really looking forward to getting to test it out."

Hermione gave an excited little clap. "That's such great news Neville."

Neville beamed happily, his face glowing with pleasure. He'd been thrilled when his Gran had told him she was taking him to the Wand Maker's.

"So, what did you do over the holidays, Hermione?" Neville asked.

"I got caught up on loads of reading," Hermione said enthusiastically. "We ended up going to my grandmothers for New Years, so I got to see all my cousins. I just wish we'd been able to see each other more than once over the holidays Harrison."

"We were both busy," Harrison replied. "Besides, those two weeks went pretty quickly."

"That's true," Hermione conceded.

"So, what did your family do for Christmas, Harris?" Neville asked.

"Tree, presents, pudding, and lots of ham," Harrison said. "I asked mum if she knew about the whole BWL thing. She had no idea."

"Well, that answers that, at least," Hermione said. "Maybe they, whoever _they_ are, were trying to keep you from growing up with a sense of entitlement. I mean, you could have ended up like Malfoy."

Harrison's nose crunched up in distaste. "Never," he denied vehemently.

Neville scrutinised his friend. "I could see it. You, the stuck up prince of Gryffindor, Hermione and I your lowly subjects."

Harrison glared at his friend. "Shut it."

"Yes, your majesty," Neville teased, adding in a playful bow.

Hermione giggled at the expression on Harrison's face. No, she decided, Harrison would never have been like Malfoy. There was something genuine about her friend that seemed to have skipped the blonde Slytherin, and Hermione had no doubt that, no matter how Harrison had been raised, he'd have always been genuinely kind.

"Alright, let's move on, shall we?" Hermione suggested. "I had an idea over the break. We know that Quirell has been trying to get at Nicholas Flamel's stone. And we're fairly sure that he's doing Voldemort's bidding. What we don't know is how did Voldemort supposedly survive, when according to all sources I've found, Voldemort _should_ be dead."

"Considering the hype surrounding Voldemort's defeat, it's strange to think that Dumbledore isn't taking this a little more seriously," Neville said. "After the war, everyone was terrified that he'd be back. The war lasted for nearly a decade, thousands of people died. Why isn't anyone more worried about what could happen?"

"Ten years later, nothing has happened. People have forgotten. People move on," Hermione said.

"So, how is it possible that Voldemort can be giving Quirrell orders, at Hogwarts no less, and no one seems to notice that he's back? Is he hiding somewhere?" Harrison suggested.

"Maybe in the Forbidden Forest," Neville added. "There's all sorts of creatures living in the Forest. And there was that rumour going around before break about something killing unicorns in there. One more dark creature wouldn't cause much of a stir."

Hermione bit her lip thoughtfully. She'd given the topic a lot of thought over Christmas, but she didn't want the boys to laugh at her.

"I had an idea about how Voldemort and Quirrell could be communicating," Hermione broached.

The boys looked at her, tilting their heads inquisitively. Hermione sucked in a fortifying breath and blurted out her theory.

"Quirrell's possessed, and Voldemort's hiding under his turban."

The boys stared at her, dumb-founded.

"_Voldemort_ is hiding under Quirrell's _turban_?" Harrison asked.

Hermione nodded.

Neville stared at her, wide-eyed. "How in Merlin's name did you come up with that?"

"Well, I've noticed that every time Harrison gets near Professor Quirrell, he gets very twitchy."

"Twitchy?" Harrison yelped indignantly. "I do _not_ get twitchy."

Neville gave his friend a look of consideration. "Actually, mate, you do now that I think about it."

Harrison huffed and muttered "I'm not twitchy," beneath his breath.

"Anyway, the only time your scar hurts is during Quirrell's classes. And, do you remember what I found in his research? About sharing a soul with your spouse. What if he was using it to research ways to allow Voldemort to possess him?"

"What, like a ghost you mean?" Harrison asked.

Hermione nodded. "There's a lot out there about spirits who have possessed the bodies of people and animals very successfully, especially when it comes to magic users. According to the research I found in Quirrell's study, Voldemort left behind a physical body, so we know that in one sense, he was dead. But, Voldemort was an extremely clever wizard, he'd have known all sorts of rituals to tether his spirit to this world."

"So he could exist as a spirit, take over a body, and then try to get to the Philosopher's Stone. Which would grant him immortality, and wealth beyond measure," Neville summarised.

Hermione let the boys mull over the idea before launching into the next piece of her argument.

"Before end of term, I was talking to the Weasley twins about Professor Quirrell, and they said he'd taken a year off to travel around Albania. He wasn't teaching last school year, and when he came back, he was extremely different. He'd developed a stutter, and he was wearing the turban. Everyone thought it was because of a run-in with a kiss of vampires, and that he'd lost his nerve. But, what if he's hiding something beneath the turban?" she postulated.

"Voldemort hiding beneath a turban," Neville mused. "It's so incredibly unbelievable. And maybe that's the beauty of it. No one would ever go up to him and say 'hey, are you hiding the Dark Lord under your turban?' They'd be laughed out of Hogwarts."

"How can we get him to take it off?" Harrison asked.

"We could set it on fire," Neville suggested.

Hermione gaped at him, aghast at his violent suggestion.

"What?" Neville asked defensively. "You set his robes on fire!"

Hermione blushed darkly. "It has to look like an accident," she said.

"Or a prank," Harrison chimed in.

Hermione turned to look at him thoughtfully. "A prank?"

"Yeah. Something that could still get us in trouble, but could be seen as harmless fun."

Hermione mulled over the new suggestion. "That's a great idea Harrison."

Harrison grinned proudly. "I know."

For the rest of the train ride, they discussed the various ways that they could get Quirrell out of the turban, though each of their solutions required a far greater magical ability than they currently possessed. They tabled the discussion for the rest of the ride, Hermione insisting on conducting some proper research before they committed to a single plan.

As Hermione said, the library would hopefully provid them with all the answers they would need.

000000000000000

The welcoming feast was as good a meal as ever, and Harrison deliberately took a seat so as to face Draco Malfoy. Harrison kept smiling at the silver-haired boy, and would pretend to whisper in Hermione's ear, while pointing at the Slytherin bully. By the end of the meal, Malfoy was a nervous wreck, glancing around at his classmates to see if any of them knew about the bad bet he'd made.

Everyone else seemed to have forgotten about it. In point of fact, Draco himself had all but forgotten about the arrogant bet he'd made with Evans on the first day of term. He couldn't even really recall what had made him wager his wand against the bandana-clad boy. Except that Evans was a muggle, and Draco was a pureblood. He'd been sure that he would be better than Evans at everything he tried.

Being a pureblood hadn't helped Draco achieve higher marks in class. Evans and the Granger girl were coming at the top of every class, and all the first years knew it. It would only be a matter of time before it came out that Draco had welched on the bet. And that would ruin his reputation at the school.

Draco snarled angrily at the Gryffindor table. Another challenge, then. He could challenge Evans to a duel. Draco's father had taught him a lot of spells that weren't covered in the Hogwarts curriculum, and so Draco felt he would have a distinct advantage over the mudblood.

Draco nodded decisively. He would challenge Evans to a midnight duel. And when Draco won, he would be the proud owner of Evans' wand.

0000000000000000

"You made him extremely nervous," Hermione said as they made their way out of the doors of the Great Hall and towards the staircase that would lead to the common room.

"Actually, towards the end, he looked kind of pissed," Neville said.

"Well, if I thought I was going to lose my wand, I'd probably look pissed too. Oh, look, here he comes," Harrison said, pointing out the approaching student.

Draco Malfoy strode up to the trio and mounted the steps until he stood above them. His father had always taught him to take the higher ground in any confrontation.

"I want a rematch, mudblood," Malfoy demanded.

"Oh, really?" Harrison drawled. "And why would I want that when I won your wand fair and square?"

"Won it? You haven't earned it. I propose a wizard's duel. Tonight," Malfoy said.

"And when I win, what do I get?" Harrison asked.

"My wand," Draco replied.

Harrison shook his head. "I already won that. What else?"

Draco hadn't really thought about that. "What else is there? Money?"

Harrison shook his head. "Nothing quite so ordinary. Tell you what, if I win, the word 'mudblood' gets dropped from your vocabulary. For the rest of your life. How does that sound?"

Draco flushed a deep pink. "Fine. And when I win, I get your wand, and I get to call you whatever I like."

Harrison shrugged. "Alright then. Tonight. Where?"

"The Astronomy Tower. At midnight."

"I'll be there."

0000000000000000

"Really?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows raised.

"What? Like I was going to say no to that?"

"Harrison, I hate to point this out, but while you may be better in terms of class work, I'm pretty sure that Malfoy is going to know more spells than all of us combined," Neville gamely added.

"Well, he wouldn't know more than Hermione," Harrison said. "Look, Malfoy's an idiot. One good stunning spell, and he'll be out like a light."

"And where, pray tell, do you plan on learning a stunning spell?" Hermione demanded.

"Well, how hard can it be? Let's find the twins and get them to teach us."

Hermione rolled her eyes. There were so many ways this plan of Harrison's was going to go wrong.

They found the Weasley twins in the Gryffindor Common Room, and Harrison quickly managed to get them to agree to a private tutoring lesson. When they heard that it was a matter of honour and pride, they were doubly interested. The newly formed five-some made their way out of the common room and towards an unused room.

"You bet your wand?" George asked. "Dangerous move."

"Not even we'd bet our wands, and-" "We've bet some stupid things in our time."

The first years had no doubt that this was true.

"Chores for a month-" "Homework for a week-" "Our little sister Ginny-" "But never our wands."

"You bet your sister?" Hermione was horrified.

"Babysitting duty," George clarified. "So you need to learn some offensive moves?"

"Nothing too complicated," Harrison replied. "Maybe a stunner or two."

"Well, your standard stunner is '_stupefy_' and '_impedimenta_'. Fred, you stun, I'll block."

Fred nodded and pointed his wand at his brother. Harrison watched carefully, studying the older boy's stance and wand movements as he cried out "_Stupefy_".

George slashed his wand upwards and yelled "_Protego_" which sent the bolt of magic flying harmlessly to the side.

"If I'd hit my dear brother, he'd have gone flying. Chances are, no firstie is going to know the Shield Charm."

"In fact, most firstie's won't even know a stunner," George said.

Fred beckoned Harrison to stand closer. He guided Harrison's wrist through the motions of the stunning spell and then stepped back.

"Alright, aim it at that bookcase over there," he instructed.

Harrison nodded, took a deep breath, and then shot the spell at the bookcase. "_Stupefy_!"

The bookcase rattled violently, but stayed standing, thanks to the supporting wall behind it.

"Sweet!"

The twins grinned at Harrison's enthusiasm.

"Alright. Now for the second spell." "The Impediment spell isn't as effective, though it will slow your opponent down-" "and sometimes that's all you need. The wand movement starts high on the left-" "and crosses diagonally down to the right with your wand ending up aiming at your opponent's feet."

Harrison was a quick learner, and under the twins guidance, he'd learned both stunners, and the shielding charm. It took until dinner time, and Hermione and Neville had both begun learning the spells as well. Hermione, of course, was a fast learner. Neville seemed considerably more proficient with his new wand, which in turn, boosted his confidence, which then made his desire to learn even more noticeable.

The twins also taught the trio a handful of mostly harmless jinxes, which were more likely to embarrass the victim, rather than hurt them.

When it was time for dinner, the group made their way down to the Great Hall, and the first year trio decided to spend the rest of the evening practicing what they had learned. Curfew for first years was set for nine o'clock, and so they reluctantly went their separate ways, with a solemn promise to meet in the common room at eleven twenty.

Hermione could barely concentrate on the assignment that she was working on, though as it was an extra-credit essay, it wasn't of the utmost importance.

Neville spent the time whispering '_lumos_' spells with his new wand, impressed by the intensity of the light he was able to create. He'd never had so much success with his magic before, and he had a feeling that he was going to enjoy lessons far more now.

Harrison practiced the wand movements needed for each of the spells he'd learned that afternoon. He'd noticed that several of the wand movements for different spells flowed easily into each other, and would be faster to execute if said in a certain order. Of course, the downfall to that was that a pattern could be deciphered. He'd need to mix up the spells he'd learned so as not to become predictable.

He practiced the movements and combinations until his watch finally ticked over to eleven thirty. He grabbed the invisibility cloak he'd dug out of his trunk, and slipped into the shoes he'd left at the side of the bed. He crept over to Neville's bedside and shook his dozing friend. Silently the two boys made their way down to the common room.

Unsurprisingly, Hermione had beaten them downstairs. They greeted each other silently, and then crept out of the common room. Once they were outside the portrait door, Harrison unfolded the cloak.

"Is that-" Neville was so astonished that he couldn't even finish the question.

"Yep," Harrison replied proudly.

Hermione, hating to be left out of the information loop, glared at the boys. "What is it? Besides a cloak?"

"It's an invisibility cloak," Harrison replied.

Hermione gaped at him in disbelief. "They're meant to be really rare. Where'd you get it?"

"It was sent to me over Christmas," Harrison explained. "They sent it with a note that said it belonged to my father, and that it was time it was returned to me."

"Who sent it?" Neville asked.

Harrison shrugged. "I couldn't swear to it, but the handwriting on the note matched a letter that Dumbledore wrote to my mum."

"Strange. I wonder why your father gave it to the headmaster," Hermione said.

Harrison shrugged. "No idea. But, I thought we should all get under this. I don't want to get caught in the corridors after curfew."

"Good idea," Neville said. "I'm not keen on losing any points."

With very little fuss the trio fit themselves under the cloak with Hermione between the two boys.

It was awkward at first, but the trio eventually found their rhythm, walking almost as though they were in a three-legged race. Or, rather a five-legged race. It took nearly the whole half hour to navigate their way towards the astronomy tower. They arrived with less than two minutes to midnight.

"Let's stay under the cloak until Malfoy gets here," Neville suggested. "Then we can scare the hell out of him."

Harrison laughed. "Great plan."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but didn't protest. The trio sat on a desk in the middle of the room, facing the door to await for Malfoy's arrival. It was silent in the tower, and more than a little creepy.

"I wouldn't want to be alone up here, that's for sure," Harrison whispered.

"Wonder if Malfoy's bringing his muscle?" Neville mused.

"His trained gorillas, you mean?"

Neville snorted.

"Don't be insulting," Hermione chastised. "Gorillas are extremely intelligent creatures."

Harrison tried to stifle his laughter behind his hand. Neville wound up with the hiccups from laughing so hard.

After over fifteen minutes of waiting, the trio were fading fast, yawning and falling into micro-sleeps. Hermione's head fell onto Harrison's shoulder, and he didn't even try to move her. Ten minutes after that, the trio had had enough.

"He's not coming," Harrison said.

"Coward," Neville muttered.

"I don't care anymore. Let's get back to the common room. C'mon, Hermione, wake up," Harrison said, gently shaking his friend.

Hermione blinked her eyes rapidly, momentarily befuddled by her surroundings.

"Time'sit?" she murmured sleepily.

"Half twelve," Harrison replied. "Malfoy's not coming."

"Not all that surprising when you think about it," Hermione said. The trio stood and made their way carefully down the stairs, cloak in place over their bodies.

They carefully made their way through the hallways, tiptoeing past the teacher's offices, despite knowing that none of the Professors would be in them at this time of night. They crept passed the forbidden third floor corridor, and exchanged nervous glances. The idea that a Cerberus lay behind the door was vaguely terrifying to them.

They crept down the next hallway and came to an abrupt halt when they saw Professor McGonagall leading an indignant Draco Malfoy through the hall.

"Out of bed at this hour," McGonagall was chastising the student. "What were you thinking Mr Malfoy?"

"It's Evans!"

Harrison sucked in a nervous lungful of air before remembering that beneath the cloak, they stood invisible to the student and Professor.

"He challenged me to a duel!" Malfoy said.

"At midnight?" McGonagall asked sceptically.

"Yes! In the astronomy tower. He said I was a coward if I didn't show up."

McGonagall didn't appear to believe Malfoy's version of events. The pair were interrupted by the arrival of Mr Filch, the caretaker of Hogwarts, and his cat Mrs Norris.

"Students out of bed?" Filch inquired.

"Just the one so far," McGonagall replied.

"He's up there! In the astronomy tower!" Malfoy insisted.

McGonagall sighed and looked to Mr Filch. "Perhaps you could go and look, just to satisfy Mr Malfoy's curiosity. Be on the look-out for Mr Evans, he's a first-year Gryffindor."

Mr Filch nodded, and came walking towards where the trio stood, standing as closely to the wall as was humanly possible. Filch strode past without hesitation, but Mrs Norris took a moment to sniff around at the bottom of the cloak. The trio held their collective breaths and waited for the cat to move on.

"Come on, Mrs Norris," Filch called from down the hall.

The cat reluctantly followed its owner, and the trio breathed a little easier.

"As for you, Mr Malfoy, I believe it's a visit to see Professor Snape."

Malfoy sighed and reluctantly followed behind the Professor.

The trio waited for more than a minute until they were completely certain that they'd been missed.

"I have never been so scared in my life," Neville whispered.

"Join the club," Harrison replied.

"Let's just get back before we're caught," Hermione said.

The boys nodded and they began moving again. They took a left turn and Hermione gasped and stopped abruptly.

"What's wrong?" Harrison asked worriedly.

"I completely forgot!"

"Forgot what?" Neville asked.

"The mirror!"

0000000000000

A/N: So, I saw the Harry Potter Exhibition in Sydney this morning. Quite, quite awesome. Although, I wasn't entirely convinced that some of the props were actually taken from the films. Malfoy's wand/cane looked extremely fake, the snake head was all wrong. And maybe I just can't judge how big 12 – 18 year olds would be, but damn the costumes were tiny.

Anyhoo, if you're in Sydney and you haven't seen it yet, it's worth the money. I was a little disappointed that the gift shop had sold out of the Nimbus 2000 broomsticks, though, as I seriously wanted one. Anyone want to sell me one? (I'm mostly kidding, though if you do, I'd be thrilled.)


	14. The Mirror

Hey everyone! Thanks for all your great feedback. Some of you are picking up on stuff I'd forgotten about, so I've been re-writing some future stuff. Anyhoo, hope you enjoy this latest chapter.

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN: THE MIRROR**

Hermione steered the two boys into the room that she'd found the curious mirror in nearly two months earlier. The day that she'd broken into Quirrell's private rooms and read his research seemed as though it had been ages ago, rather than the mere six weeks that had passed.

Wide awake at the thought of seeing the images in the mirror once more, Hermione practically marched the boys into the room. She closed the door behind them and slipped out from under the cloak. She walked towards the mirror and stood in front of it, her face flushing slightly in memory of what she'd seen.

The reflection in the mirror was just as she'd remembered. Herself as an older student; a handsome, older Harrison standing in the mirror with her. Matching wedding rings and matching Head Boy/Girl badges on their Hogwarts cloaks. She hadn't even noticed the HB badge on Harrison's chest the previous time.

"It's a great big mirror," Harrison said wryly.

Hermione gasped and felt herself turn a deeper shade of red.

"You didn't see that?" she asked.

"What, you and me in the mirror? Of course I did."

Hermione had a feeling that they hadn't seen the same images, or he'd have been less blasé about it.

"Well, here, you stand there. And tell me what you see," Hermione moved out of the direct path of the mirror and watched her friend curiously.

Harrison stood there, his eyebrows raised in scepticism.

"What do you see?" Hermione asked.

"Me," Harrison replied drolly. He looked towards Hermione expectantly, only to have her make a hand gesture to indicate to take another look. As he did, he almost fell over in shock.

"Woah!"

"What?" Neville asked curiously. "What is it?"

"It's...me. Only, older. And my hair's grown back. And I obviously haven't learned to shave properly," Harrison said.

"And?" Hermione prompted.

Harrison stared at the image in the mirror. The reflection showed an older version of himself, a carefree smirk on his lips. His double reached up and ruffled the scruffy hair on his head. And then his reflection gave a very genuine smile and held his hand out. A woman stepped into the frame, her brown hair tumbling wildly down to the middle of her back. The woman smiled at his older self, and Harrison couldn't help but smile as well.

The woman was familiar somehow. He glanced left and saw Hermione standing anxiously nearby. He looked back at the mirror, and then realised just who the older woman in the mirror was. Hermione! And she and his older self were kissing.

His cheeks flushed bright pink and he felt his heart begin to pound nervously.

"Is this...is this the future?" Harrison asked.

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "But it's an amazing mirror."

Harrison nodded dumbly. He couldn't help stare at his older self and the older Hermione as they danced and kissed and smiled at each other. If this was his future...well, he certainly wouldn't complain.

Another look in the mirror showed that another boy had joined the mirror-couple. A tall, fit looking blonde teenage boy stood behind the older Harrison and clapped him on the shoulder. Young Harrison stared in shock as he recognised the teen as his brother Dudley. He looked whole and hearty, and completely healed.

Harrison reached out to touch the image, but his hand only found glass.

"What is it?" Hermione asked softly.

"Dudley," Harrison whispered. "He looks great. Healthy."

He stared for a moment longer before reluctantly stepping away. He turned to Neville. "Your turn, mate."

Neville took a deep breath and then stepped in front of the ornate mirror. He gaped at the reflection in shock.

"What do you see?" Hermione asked.

"My parents," he replied. "Happy, and healthy and standing right next to me."

He spun around, as if to confirm that his parents weren't somehow standing in the room with him.

"Wow. If this is the future...Merlin, I hope this is the future! My parents!" Neville exclaimed happily.

Hermione and Harrison smiled at their friend. It was unusual to see Neville get so enthusiastic about anything. They couldn't help but hope that the mirror showed the future, both for Neville's sake, and for their own.

"This is great!"

Neville took another moment to stare longingly at his reflection. He hadn't ever seen his parents looking so healthy. Every time he visited them at St Mungo's, they were either kept sedated enough to sleep, or tranquilised enough to seem to be living in a different world. A world where they didn't recognise their son.

"I wonder when it'll happen," Neville said, reluctantly stepping away from the mirror.

"I don't know," Hermione said. "In mine...well, I was wearing the Head Girl badge, so...mine seems to be set six years from now. Harrison, did you notice anything to show a time frame?"

Harrison thought back to what the mirror had shown him. He couldn't think of anything definite. He and Hermione had looked to be in about their seventh year, and Dudley had looked seventeen or eighteen.

"Dudley did look about seventeen. Six years sounds about right for mine as well," Harrison agreed. "Nev? How old did you look in yours?"

"I looked the same," Neville admitted. "Maybe that means it'll happen this year!"

"Alas, Mr Longbottom, I'm afraid that is not how the mirror works."

The trio gasped at the voice that had suddenly come from behind them. They spun and came face to face with Headmaster Dumbledore.

"Headmaster," Hermione managed to squeak.

"Good evening, Miss Granger," Dumbledore replied politely. "And good evening to you as well, Misters Evans and Longbottom."

"Evening sir," Harrison murmured guiltily.

Neville managed to push out a sound that sounded like "meep."

"We were just-" Hermione trailed off, unsure how to explain what they were doing out and about at nearly one in the morning.

"You are not the first to become captivated by the Mirror of Erised," Professor Dumbledore said mildly. "Nor, I expect, will you be the last."

The trio winced and stared at the floor, willing it to open up and swallow them whole.

"I fear, Mr Longbottom, that the return to health for your parents is not something that you can count on to come true," Dumbledore said gently.

Neville looked up, and felt tears come to his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that this mirror does not show the future," the Professor replied.

Neville swallowed hard, but felt traitorous tears well in his eyes. "Oh."

"That is not to say that it may not come true," Dumbledore consoled. "Only that it cannot be taken as fact."

"Then, if it doesn't show the future," Hermione began, "how does it work, sir?"

Dumbledore considered the young student for a moment.

"Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?"

Hermione mused on the Professor's answer for a moment.

"It shows us what we want," Harrison chimed in. "Whatever we want."

"Yes, and no," Dumbledore replied. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desires of our hearts. You, Neville, who have never known your parents, see them standing beside you. Hermione, you strive for excellence, and so see yourself with the Head Girl's badge, and perhaps a companion for your future days. And Harrison, you saw your brother, whole and hearty, standing beside you and your own future companion."

Harrison and Hermione glanced at each other, and then, catching the others gaze, nervously looked away.

"However, the mirror gives us neither knowledge, nor truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible."

Neville inhaled shakily and nodded. "I understand, sir."

"The mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow," Dumbledore said. "I must ask that you not come looking for it."

The trio nodded, a little reluctantly to comply, but certainly not about to argue with the Headmaster.

"Now, why don't you put on that admirable cloak, and get back to bed," Dumbledore said.

Harrison gaped at him.

"Aren't we going to get detention, or anything?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I believe that this is a lesson that has already been hard to learn," looking sympathetically at Neville.

"Thank you sir," Hermione said.

"Good night, you three. And Mr Evans...no more betting on your wand."

Harrison gaped after the headmaster as he gave a quick wink and then left the room.

"Unbelievable," Harrison muttered. "How the heck did he even know about that?"

"He is the Headmaster," Hermione replied. "He probably knows a lot of what goes on around here."

"Yeah. Too bad he doesn't do anything about it," Harrison griped.

"At least we didn't lose any points," Hermione said.

Harrison rolled his eyes.

Hermione glanced across at the extremely quiet Neville and saw his attempt at a brave face. She moved closer to him, and put her arm across his shoulders.

"Alright, Nev?" she asked softly.

Neville sighed despondently. "I guess. It's just...hard. I got my hopes up for nothing."

"I'm sorry Neville."

"Not your fault," he replied.

"But if I hadn't insisted on showing you the mirror, none of this would have happened," Hermione said.

"You were excited about it," Neville said. "Nothing wrong with that. Now...how'd you even find this thing anyway?"

Hermione winced. "Remember that day I broke into Quirrell's study? Well, on the way back, I nearly ran into that crazy Divinations Professor. I hid in here to make sure no one saw me too close to Quirrell's room. Anyway, I meant to tell you both about it, but then, after everything that happened that afternoon, I just forgot."

"I think you can be forgiven for being distracted by Quirrell's craziness," Harrison said.

Hermione shrugged. The mirror had truly been forgotten until they'd nearly gone past the door to the room it was hidden in. She'd forgotten how fascinating the mirror was until she'd stood in front of it again.

The Mirror of Erised, Dumbledore had called it. She wondered what language it was in. She thought she remembered seeing the word 'erised' etched on the mirror. She stepped towards the ornate frame and looked up at the words once more.

"_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi,_" she read out slowly.

"What language is that?" Neville asked.

Hermione shook her head. "No idea."

Harrison approached, and carefully stood to the side, so as not to see his reflection again.

"Desire," Hermione blurted out.

"What?" the boys asked together.

"The Mirror of Desire," Hermione translated. "Professor Dumbledore said that you would see what your heart desired. _Erised_ is desire backwards. So...the translation of the inscription is..._desire arts urhe_-"

"That doesn't sound right," Neville said.

"You have to start at the end, read it as a true reflection," Harrison said. "_I show not your face, but your heart's desire._"

"Not the future," Neville said sadly.

Harrison placed his hand on Neville's shoulder. "But not an impossibility."

00

A/N: I do have a question in regards to the mirror: was the Philosopher's/Sorcerer's Stone hidden in the mirror the whole time? Is it ever explained in canon why the mirror was in an abandoned classroom if it *was* hiding something so valuable? Or, was Dumbledore keeping it in the mirror in the unused classroom because, why hide something in the place you say you've hidden it? Any opinions?


	15. The Dragon

Hi everyone! Thanks for all the reviews, and your thoughts on why the Mirror of Erised was moved from the classroom to the Third corridor. I happen to agree that Dumbledore was definitely testing Harry to see what his strengths would be, and also on who he could get to go with him.

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN: THE DRAGON**

For the next two weeks, the trio plotted and schemed, trying to come up with ways to force Professor Quirrell to get rid of his turban in a public area. The subject of fire was quickly abandoned, though it was perhaps the easiest. The suggestion of stink bombs was also denied, as the turban already smelled strongly of garlic, and it was possible that Quirrell's olfactory senses had been burned away already.

Most of the spells that they were capable of performing would only give them the most basic of responses. Changing the colour of the turban, while entertaining, would not give them any results.

They had also come to the decision that they would only have one chance at this. If they failed, Professor Quirrell was likely to become extremely paranoid, wondering if people had discovered the secret of what he was hiding beneath the turban.

"I still like fire," Harrison said.

"No!" Hermione and Neville replied, exasperated.

Harrison sulked momentarily. There was a moment of silence as they each tried to think of new ways to de-turban the professor.

"Itching powder," Harrison suggested.

Neville looked up thoughtfully. "That's not bad."

"But how would you put it in his turban?" Hermione asked.

The boys deflated.

"We could break into his room again," Neville suggested.

"Too risky," Harrison said. "Once was more than enough."

"Should we tell Professor Snape about this?" Hermione mused.

The boys looked at her, eyebrows raised. "And say what?" Harrison asked. "'We think Voldemort's hiding under Quirrell's _turban_, can you find out for us?' He'd laugh us out of his office."

Hermione sighed. "That's true."

"We could make a potion that would dissolve anything it touches," Neville suggested. "But we'd still have to get it near his turban. And if we're right about this, then...well, _Voldemort_!"

"That is slightly problematic," Hermione agreed. "We could be killed. Or worse, expelled."

Neville stared at her incredulously. "Tell me you're joking."

Hermione shook her head. "No. Dead, we won't know the difference...I couldn't stand to be expelled."

Harrison was laughing silently, holding a hand over his mouth and trying to keep his body from rocking. There were times that he truly loved his best friend. This was definitely one of them. He wondered if Hermione had nightmares about the coming quest that involved a de-turbaned Quirrell/Voldemort telling her she was expelled.

His laughter finally died down, and he went back to contemplating the notion of getting close enough to Quirrell and dispensing a spell without hi noticing. Or without him seeing them. He felt a mental light bulb flare to life.

"Hey, what about the invisibility cloak?" Harrison asked. "We can get up close without him ever seeing us."

"In front of a whole lot of people? It's risky. What if it falls off? Everyone would see us," Hermione said.

"Well, we'd only need one of us to be under it. You, Nev and I would be somewhere really obvious, then you announce you're going to the library, you have the cloak in your bag, and you disappear. All of a sudden, Quirrell's turban starts disintegrating or whatever, and no one would even think to suspect you," Harrison said.

Hermione looked extremely apprehensive, but Neville was nodding supportively.

"I don't know Harrison," Hermione said. "If we're wrong about this, I could get expelled."

"That's why we're all going to be equally involved in making the potion. That way, we're all equally to blame. If one of us gets caught, we all go down," Harrison said.

Hermione still looked less than convinced, but Harrison just grabbed hold of her hand. "We have to do this. He has to be stopped. Dumbledore's not going to do anything about it. And I don't know about you, but I don't feel safe when I'm around Quirrell."

She took a deep breath and finally nodded. "Alright. _But_, we still have a lot of work to do."

000000000000

The 'mission' was planned down to the last micro second, and when Harrison had jokingly suggested synchronising their watches, Hermione had jumped on the idea. It had taken nearly six weeks to perfect their plans for 'Operation: Quirrelmort' as they'd taken to calling it.

Neville had scoured through Potions textbooks until he'd found a potion that would suit their needs. It was in a fourth year textbook however, and required ingredients that weren't available to first years.

They'd recruited the Weasley twins to get as many of the ingredients from the list as they could manage, with the promise of a great pay-off prank at the end of their troubles. Unfortunately, the twins were only third years, and the more dangerous ingredients were restricted for upper years.

Hermione had finessed some of the ingredients away from Professor Sprout with a request to study certain plants and their properties for an extra credit assignment. She'd handed in the essay, but kept the seedlings.

The potion itself took a week to brew, and was time sensitive. They had set up a roster to ensure that the brewing went perfectly. They had a handful of excuses to be released from class at the right times. Neville was getting quite good at pretending to faint, though he'd gained a reputation as a bit of a wuss. (Some of the muggle-borns took to calling him the Cowardly Lion.)

They'd set up a cauldron in the abandoned classroom that had once housed the Mirror of Erised. Now that the mirror was gone, there was nothing there but desks and tables. They'd cordoned off a corner and brought in a spare cauldron they'd acquired from one of the upper years who had dropped Potions classes halfway through the term.

Using the invisibility cloak to hide the brewing cauldron and to disguise the smoke from the safely lit fire, the plan was slowly coming to fruition.

00000000000

"It has to be after exams," Hermione argued.

"What are you talking about?" Harrison asked. Hermione's statement had come quite literally out of nowhere. He had been laying on his back, using his satchel bag as a pillow, the invisibility cloak inside it acting as a comfortable layer of padding. An afternoon of cloud-gazing by the edge of the lake had been a relaxing break from the copious amounts of studying for exams that he'd been doing. Hermione and Neville had gone to check on the potion, as it was finally nearing completion.

Hermione sat beside him, and gave him a look that spoke volumes. "The _unveiling_. The potion's ready." She took out a medium-sized vial and held it up for Harrison to see.

Harrison took the vial and stared at the precious liquid. He was surprised at the fact that his heart rate had increased, and his hands had begun shaking slightly. He handed it back carefully and sat on his hands to hide his uneasiness. It was one thing to make plans about sabotaging a Hogwart's Professors clothes, and another entirely to begin proper preparations. He wanted this gone, though. He wanted to be able to sit in a DADA class and not wince every time Quirrell turned his back on the class. He wanted to eat a meal and not feel himself twitch every time Quirrell looked his way.

The sooner this was over, the better.

"Why wait until after exams?"

"We can't disrupt exams," Hermione replied, exasperated. "Fifth and seventh years especially. Can you image the panic if we exposed the DADA Professor to be possessed right before their OWL's and NEWT's. There'd be a riot."

Harrison rolled his eyes. Trust Hermione to think of the practicalities of when to reveal Quirrell's duplicitous nature.

"What if he tries for the stone before then?" Neville asked.

Hermione bit her lip.

"He won't do anything while Dumbledore's here," she replied confidently.

Harrison gaped at her. "You're kidding! He's already tried for it at least once that we know of. Not to mention, he tried to _kill _me! Who knows how much further he's gone through the traps. He could already have made it past six of them."

"Professor Snape was really confident about the last trap," Hermione said.

"It's probably his," Harrison replied. "So, of course he's going to be confident about it. The other professors probably thought their traps were pretty fool-proof too."

Hermione frowned. She hadn't considered that angle before. When Professor Snape had reassured them of the safety of the stone, she'd taken him at his word. She'd never considered that the Potions Master might have been a little biased towards his own trap.

"Maybe the last one is Dumbledore's," Neville said. "I mean, he is the greatest wizard since Merlin."

"That's true," Hermione and Harrison conceded.

"Alright...unless we find out that he's trying for the Stone before exams, we wait until after. We can't cause any disruption until then," Hermione said. "Agreed?"

Harrison and Neville nodded.

"Agreed."

"Well exams are next week, so it's hardly a long wait," Hermione said.

"Personally I could use a bit of a distraction," Harrison said. "All this studying isn't good for me."

Hermione stared at him incredulously.

"Honestly!"

Neville snickered, and Harrison hid his grin, marking a mental tally of six for this week.

"The exams are one of the most important ways to discover where your strengths and weaknesses in any subject are. Without them-"

"Society would crumble, and the world would end," Harrison teased.

Hermione glared. "Very funny."

"Too bad Quidditch is over for the year," Neville offered up the neutral topic, in hopes of staving off the potential argument.

"Gryffindor!" Harrison cheered loudly.

Hermione smiled indulgently. The game between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff had lasted under ten minutes, with Harrison catching the Snitch before either team had scored more than two goals apiece. It had been one of the shortest games in Hogwarts history. (The shortest being from 1747, which lasted for two and a half minutes. Hermione had read about it, in Hogwarts: A History.)

Ravenclaw had beaten Slytherin and Hufflepuff, and had then lost to Gryffindor with a score of 140 to Gryffindor's 290. It had been an extremely close match, but Harrison had been the faster seeker.

Before anything more could be said, the sound of dozens of teenagers screaming could be heard from the east side of the lake. Every single student on the lawns stopped where they were and turned to see what had caused such a commotion.

"What's going on?" Hermione demanded.

"I can't see," Neville replied.

Harrison knelt down beside Hermione and patted his shoulders, as he'd done at King's Cross station at Christmas. "Hop on."

Hermione hesitated, but was too curious to refuse. She clambered onto Harrison's shoulders and was lifted into the air. Harrison wobbles for a moment before finding his balance. Hermione strained to see, and then gasped, gripping tightly to Harrison's head.

"What?" the boys asked.

"It...it looks like a dragon!"

Another round of screaming came, this time closer as students ran to get away from the large creature that seemed to be on the rampage. Billowing smoke came from further down the hill.

"I can smell fire," Neville said nervously.

Teachers and students alike were running frantically. The students were scrambling to get away from the creature, and the teachers were running towards it. Even Professor Dumbledore was hurriedly heading towards the fire-breathing creature.

The dragon was moving quickly, half-running, half-flying as it made its way towards the castle. The students were racing to get inside, to relative safety.

Harrison, Hermione and Neville followed the crowd, but rather than going inside, the boys stopped at the stairs leading into the Entrance Hall, and stood at the top, trying to get a better look.

"Where did it come from?" Neville asked nervously.

"Who knows," Harrison replied. He was mesmerised by the magnificent creature.

Now that the bulk of the students were inside, he could see it far better. About the size of a large horse, the winged-creature looked exactly like the pictures in all the story books he'd ever read as a child. In his time at Hogwarts, he hadn't really taken in the fact that dragons actually existed. Hermione had told him, of course, but it had never really connected for him. He couldn't wait to tell Dudley!

As the professors shot spells at it, a loud and booming voice could be heard over all the others. "Don't hurt 'im! No, Norbert! Stop, all of you!"

"Is that...the groundskeeper?" Hermione asked.

Harrison nodded. "Hag- something."

"Hagrid," Neville supplied. "Who's Norbert, do you think?"

"One of the professor, maybe," Hermione suggested.

Harrison grinned. "Norbert Snape."

Neville laughed loudly. "Norbert Quirrell."

"No! Bad Norbert! Very bad!" Hagrid yelled.

Hermione paused thoughtfully. Hagrid's tone suggested that he wasn't talking to a person, but rather to a pet.

"I think Norbert's the dragon," she said.

"Who the hell calls a dragon _Norbert_?" Harrison asked.

The dragon roared, and shot a jet of flame at the professors, who all backed off instantly. The trio watched as Dumbledore communicated something to the other professors, and moments later, the dragon was on the ground, seemingly asleep.

Hagrid was kneeling beside the creature, wailing loudly.

"What a strange man," Hermione commented.

"Let's get a closer look," Harrison suggested.

Neville was eager, and Hermione a little reluctant, but unwilling to be left behind. They made their way closer, and began overhearing snippets of the argument between Hagrid and Professor McGonagall.

"How could you have been so careless?" McGonagall demanded. "It could have killed someone!"

"He would never!" Hagrid argued. "He's the gentlest pet I ever raised."

"It burned down your hut," Snape reminded the groundskeeper.

"Accidentally," Hagrid replied.

"It bit a student!" McGonagall cried.

"He musta been startled! Norbert wouldn't never hurt anyone. He was just scared of everyone screaming at him like that," Hagrid said.

McGonagall shook her head. "Well, that's the least of your problems now. You're extremely lucky that this creature didn't _kill_ anyone. Hagrid, you know it's illegal to breed dragons."

"Where did you even get it?" Snape asked.

"I won 'im," Hagrid said proudly. "When he was still just an egg."

"You won a Norwegian Ridgeback?" Snape repeated incredulously.

"From a bloke down at the pub. Had to talk 'im into it, but after I told 'im about Fluffy, well...if you can handle a three-headed dog, you can handle anything."

The trio exchanged glances. The three-headed dog that Quirrell had discovered fell asleep to music. Hermione grabbed each of the boys by an arm and began dragging them back inside.

Hermione remembered one of Quirrell's research topics had been about the incubation period of dragon eggs. Specifically the Norwegian Ridgeback. This was no coincidence. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that Quirrell had been the one to give Hargid the dragon's egg, no doubt after finessing the information about the Cerberus out of the hapless Groundskeeper.

"Where's Quirrell?" Hermione asked hurriedly.

"He wasn't outside," Neville replied, turning his memory to the teachers who had congregated to corral the dragon.

"A distraction," Hermione murmured.

"What is?"

"The dragon," Hermione replied. "The dragon's a distraction. Just like the troll at Halloween. Quirrell gave Hagrid the egg, knowing that eventually the dragon would run amok on Hogwarts grounds. Everyone's attention is focussed out here. So, where's Quirrell?"

Harrison felt his heart drop. They weren't prepared for the fulfilment of teir mission. They'd been preparing for an incident that they would have control over. They'd been certain that they would be able to choose the time and place to expose Quirrell for what he truly was.

Now, though, there was little doubt that all their planning had been for nought.

Harrison went extremely pale. "He's going after the stone."

"We have to stop him," Neville said.

"Let's get up to the third floor corridor. That's where he'll be," Harrison deduced.

"We'll have to hurry," Hermione said. "He's got quite a head start."

The trio manoeuvred around the throng of students who were congregating in the Entrance Hall, trying to work out what was going on with the dragon outside. By the time they'd broken free of the crowd, they were certain that Quirrell had quite a good head start on them.

"What happens if we don't get there in time?" Neville asked.

"We have to," Hermione said. "There's no other way to stop him."

Harrison grimaced. "We could go after him."

Hermione turned to stare at him. "You're joking."

Harrison shook his head, his mouth set in determination. "We have to stop him."

"What, and hope we can get past the traps laid by several very competent Hogwarts professors?" Hermione asked. "The traps that Quirrell couldn't manage to get past, despite him being more than twice our age and far more experienced. We'd be killed."

Harrison hated that she was right. There was no way they'd be able to make it past the traps that the Professors had set. Quirrell had done months of research in order to make it through the traps. A trio of First Years wouldn't even make it past the first obstacle.

"Let's just hope that we're not too late," Neville said pragmatically.

"He won't get the Stone," Harrison said. "Over my dead body."

000000000000

A/N: Thanks for reading. So, we're on the home stretch now. Two chapters to go. Thanks to everyone for leaving such great reviews, and the theories on the mirror. Got a couple of PM's about Mirror theories, which were very interesting, so thanks for them!

Also, to the lovely reviewer who asked if I was just lazy because I'm following the plot of the book...well, it's not like anything really changed just because Harry's changed his name and has made different friends. Dumbles still has the Stone in the school, Hagrid still has a dragon, but no one to send it to Romania with Charlie Weasley. Quirrell's still got Voldemort living on the back of his head. The idea of this story wasn't to change the premise. It was to change the way people reacted by changing their relationships with each other.

Harrison's not inclined to be forgiving of Dumbledore. He believes Snape wouldn't hurt him, because Snape was friends with his mother. He doesn't think much of Ron, because Ron made Hermione cry. He's not as invested in finding out about the Stone as he was in canon. The only reason for his quest in this fic is because Quirrell tried to kill him. He wanted to understand why, and it led him to try and solve a problem that none of the adults seemed to want to solve.

In canon, Harry becomes obsessed with finding out everything he can about the Stone. There's no real impetus for discovery either. He finds out Gringotts was broken into, he tries to finagle info out of Hagrid, and his curiousity is piqued. What I don't get is why. He's eleven, he's in a freakin' magic school; shouldn't he have better things to do with his time than worry about some crazy stone that may be hidden in the third floor corridor. Anyway...that's all I have to say about that.

Also, the next time you call me lazy, sign in so I can read what you've written and give you feedback.


	16. The Potions

Hi everybody! Thanks for such great feedback. I'm glad you enjoyed the use of Norbert as a distraction. Kudos to everyone who picked up earlier in the story that Hagrid had a dragon running around with no one telling him it was a poor idea.

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN: THE POTION**

Hermione, Harrison and Neville skidded to a stop outside the door to the forbidden corridor on the third floor. Panting and winded from their mad dash up the stairs, they stood for a moment, trying desperately to catch their breaths.

Moments later, Professor Quirrell came scurrying down the corridor. His robes were singed, and he was out of breath. Harrison wondered what he'd had to do to make Hagrid's dragon go on a rampage.

"What are you t-t-three doing here?" Quirrell stuttered out as he came to a halt across the hall. "Don't you k-know it's forbidden?"

"We're just talking," Hermione offered. "It was getting really loud downstairs."

"Well, you should head up to your c-common rooms," Quirrell said. "The d-dragon has been properly contained."

"It looked like a pretty..._vile_ creature," Harrison said, glancing pointedly at Hermione.

She stared at him for a moment, before deciphering his clue. She stepped closer to him and slipped the potion vial into his hand.

"Have you dealt with many dragons before, Professor?" Harrison asked.

"What? No, I haven't," Quirrell replied impatiently. His voice had changed significantly The stutter was gone, and his high-pitched breathy voice had lowered almost an octave. "If you three will excuse me, I have business to attend to."

Hermione stepped forward, directing Quirrell's attention away from the boys. "Please professor, I have a question about next weeks exams."

Quirrell barely refrained from rolling his eyes impatiently. "Really, Miss Granger, this is going to have to wait. I am extremely busy."

Harrison worked the cork out from the top of the vial. The plan had been to use a squirting bottle to disperse the potion evenly over the turban, but with such little time, and very few resources, he couldn't afford to be picky. The plan had gone to hell, and they had to keep up.

Hermione stepped sideways, making Quirrell turn his back to the boys, and it was at that moment that Harrison struck. He splashed the vial of shrinking potion onto the turban and then stepped back quickly.

Quirrell didn't even notice the effects of the potion, until he felt a tightening pressure around his forehead. The material squeezed tightly across his head, and he reached up, trying to worm a finger between the turban and his skin. He couldn't even get the tip of his finger under it.

Panicking, and in pain, he grabbed hold of the end of the turban and quickly began to unravel it, yelling in pain as the material shrunk more and more.

"What are you doing?" a raspy voice sounded.

The trio jumped back in fright. It had been one thing to have theorised about what was hiding beneath Quirrell's turban, and another entirely to have that theory confirmed.

"I'm sorry Master, something has gone wrong!" Quirrell simpered.

"Fool! You have exposed my glorious self!"

Quirrell cried out, and managed to get the last of the turban away from his head. The trio recoiled in disgust. There, on the back of Quirrell's head, was a hideous face. It was chalk-white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

Its eyes took in the frightened faces of the three first years.

"Kill them," it ordered.

Hermione grabbed hold of Neville and Harrison's arms, and pulled on them. "Run!"

They ran. They could hear Quirrell lumbering after them. The raspy voice from behind Quirell was shouting for the professor to run faster. To catch them. To kill them.

They ran down the stairs, and before Quirrell realised what had happened, they were back in the Entrance Hall, surrounded by a lake of people. The Professors had re-entered the building, and had been trying to calm down the student body, offering reassurances that the dragon had been contained, and that this had been a one-off event.

Quirrell tried to skid to a halt, but it was too late.

Students started screaming, and as people realised what the commotion was about, everybody else joined in as well. The noise was a cacophony, echoing off the walls and bringing more people to see what was going on.

Quirrell stood in the centre of the Entrance Hall, students scampering out of his way as he brought his wand up, ready to attack. Out of options, Quirrell knew that there was very little he could do to contain the situation. The Stone was out of reach. He had failed his Master. No matter what happened now, he was dead.

All thanks to Potter.

"Stay back!" Quirrell demanded as teachers began moving forward. "I will kill every person here if you do not stay back!"

One of the teachers, Professor Flitwick, who'd been a duelling champion in his day, stepped forward, his wand ready. He shot a spell at Quirrell, but the Professor shielded handily, and sent a far more violent spell back at the diminutive Charms Master.

"Stay back!" Quirrell warned.

Several of the Professors pushed to the front of the crowd, using their bodies to protect the students. The pupils on the outer edge of the crowd carefully made their way towards the exits, several of the prefects manning the doors and ushering people out. It was one of the quietest and slowest stampedes in history.

"Give me Potter!" Voldemort yelled.

Harrison, lost in the slowly shifting crowd, flinched at the word.

"Where is he?"

The students came to a halt. The name was famous, the Boy-Who-Lived was a legend. But everyone knew that he hadn't shown up for the first of the year. Murmurings rippled over what was left of the lingering audience.

"Potter?" "Harry Potter?" "The Boy-Who-Lived?" "Quirrell's gone mental!" "You-Know-Who under the turban?"

"Get out here!" Voldemort yelled. "Face me like a man. Or are you too much like your father? Cowering behind his friends, begging for mercy?"

Harrison straightened indignantly. He'd never met his father, and hadn't thought too much about him, if he was going to be honest with himself. But the thought of having people believe his father was a coward was motivating him.

"No Harrison!" Hermione whispered softly.

"I have to," he said softly.

She looked him in the eyes, and saw his conviction to do this.

"You're a great wizard Harrison," she whispered softly.

Embarrassed, he looked away. "I'm not as good as you."

"Me? Books and cleverness. There are more important things. Like friendship and bravery...oh, Harrison, be careful!" She engulfed him in a tight hug, clinging wildly to him.

Harrison hugged her firmly, and took a deep and shaky breath.

She reluctantly let go him, and Harrison stepped out of the crowd, and into the empty space of the Hall. The buzz of voices began all over again. The name Harry Potter on every person's lips.

Harrison stood behind Quirrell. Face-to-face with Voldemort. His wand was in his hand, though against Voldemort, there wouldn't be much he could do. His most powerful spell was the stunner that Fred and George had taught him to duel Draco.

"Let me see it," Voldemort said. "Your famous scar."

Harrison ripped off his bandana and rubbed the powder off his forehead. He pushed aside the black scruffy hair that had grown back, and more gasps came from the surrounding crowd.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort said softly. "The Boy-Who-Lived. How clever of you, to expose me to the school. To _ruin_ my plans for the Stone. I underestimated you."

"You're not getting anywhere near it," Harrison said.

"No. No, I don't believe so, either. No matter."

Quirrell lowered his wand to his side and took a step backwards, so that Voldemort was closer to Harrison.

"Tell me something, Potter. How did a defenceless babe obliterate the most powerful wizard in the world?" Voldemort asked softly. "What magic do you have? I will find it. And I will conquer it!"

Quirrell spun quickly, and thrust his hand, palm down on Harrison's lightning bolt scar. Harrison screamed, his head feeling as though it was about to explode. He fell to his knees, yelling wildly, and Quirrell did the same, clutching at his blackened palm, smoke wafting from the burns that had seemingly come from nowhere. Quirrell, not Voldemort, yelled out in pain.

"Master! It burns!" Quirrell cried.

"Cease your infernal whining Quirrell!" Voldemort ordered. "Do not let go!"

Quirrell obeyed, but howled loudly, his hand burning where his skin touched Harrison's.

The Boy-Who-Lived felt as though fire was being thrust into his scar, a burning stab of pain crippling him. Blindly, he reached up and grabbed Quirrell's bare wrist, and the both of them cried out in pain.

"What is this magic?" Quirrell cried, desperately trying to obey his Master, but feeling fire in every cell of his body.

Quirrell finally pulled back, his skin blackened where Harrison had touched. Harrison tried pushing to his feet, but he swayed dizzily. Quirrell forced himself to make a final grab for Harrison, but the boy inadvertently stumbled and managed to dodge the Professor. He ducked under Quirrell's outstretched arm, ending up behind the madman.

Harrison gripped his wand and shot a powerful stunning spell at Quirrell's back. The man was thrown five feet forward, and tumbled gracelessly to the ground.

In the confusion of the fall, Quirrell lost his wand, and Professor Dumbledore stepped forward and cast a silent spell at the duplicitous professor. Quirrell collapsed face down, his skin smoking from when he'd touched Harrison. The face on the back of Quirrell's head howled indignantly.

"I will never be killed!" Voldemort proclaimed. "I have gone further than any other to circumvent death. I shall have immortality. With or without that infernal Stone."

"For now, Tom, it will be without," Dumbledore replied wryly. And shot another spell at the red-eyed face.

Harrison wobbled on his feet and fell to his knees. Hermione raced to his side, and knelt beside him, her arm automatically reaching around his shoulders. She pressed her face to his shoulder, trying desperately to stop shaking. Harrison clutched her tightly, his head pounding, his vision blurry. The scar on his forehead was red, swollen and bleeding, looking minutes old, rather than decades.

"You were right," Harrison murmured.

"About what?"

"Voldemort. Under the turban," he replied. He huffed a tiny laugh. "What happened to no distractions before the exams?"

Hermione smiled. "I think Norbert took care of that."

Harrison chuckled. "_Norbert_."

The crowd, jolted out of their shock, began talking loudly once more. Harrison heard the dreaded title of "Boy-Who-Lived" being bandied about once more.

"So much for anonymity," he muttered.

Hermione chanced a look up, and found that all eyes were on Harrison. People were pointing and whispering to the people beside them. She found Neville standing nearby, glaring at the closest students.

"Let's get out of here," Hermione suggested.

"Infirmary," Harrison said. "My head is going to explode."

Hermione nodded and signalled to Neville, who began pushing his way through the crowd. Students reached out to try and touch Harrison, their hands tussling his unkempt hair, others gripping at his robes, others still touching his face. He kept his head down, and allowed Hermione to guide him through until they were finally out of the reach of the students.

Neville led the way to the infirmary where Madame Pomfrey was attending to Ron Weasley, who's hand seemed to have swelled up to twice its usual size.

"Bitten by a dragon," Madam Pomfrey tutted. "What was Hagrid thinking?"

Ron was whimpering and keeping a tight hold of his arm above the bite marks.

Hermione and Neville helped Harrison into a bed as far away from Ron as possible. Hermione hovered uneasily until the nurse was done with Ron. She curbed the urge to pull Madame Pomfrey along by the wrist to hurry her trip across the ward.

"What's happened here?" the woman asked. Her eyes found the bleeding red scar on Harrison's forehead, and she looked at him in surprise. "I'd forgotten about that. What on earth happened?"

"It's a long story," Hermione hedged.

"Professor Quirrell was being possessed by Voldemort, and when Quirrell touched Harris, they both started screaming in pain. Quirrell's hand started burning, and Harrison said his head felt like it was going to explode," Neville summed up.

"Apparently not that long," Hermione muttered.

Madame Pomfrey took a moment to digest the news. The idea of Professor Quirrell being possessed did explain a lot about the man's behaviour. She walked to her cabinet of potions and picked up a powerful headache reliever. She gave it to Harrison, who drank it gratefully. Moments later, the pounding in his head lessened to a manageable level. He sighed in pleasure.

Hermione grabbed hold of a damp cloth and laid it on Harrison's brow. He closed his eyes tiredly, and soaked in the cool cloth, and the soothing feel of Hermione's hand stroking his messy hair.

"You said it burned when he touched you?" Pomfrey asked.

Harrison opened his eyes and nodded, immediately regretting it when his headache reappeared momentarily. "Yes ma'am. I don't know why."

"Love," came a voice at the doorway of the infirmary.

The trio, and Madame Pomfrey turned to stare at Headmaster Dumbledore. He came closer and took up a position at the foot of Harrison's bed.

"If there is one thing that Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realise that love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark," the headmaster explained.

Harrison was confused for a moment, and then realised that Dumbledore was speaking of Lily Potter, rather than Petunia Evans.

"Your mother sacrificed her own life for yours, literally throwing herself in front of you to save your life. To have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good."

"What happens now? How will you get Voldemort out of Quirrell?" Harrison asked.

Dumbledore sighed tiredly. "I'm afraid that Professor Quirrell has perished. The strain of sharing a body with a disembodied spirit is quite taxing on a person. It seems as though they have been sharing a body for nearly a year. The longest I'd ever read about a spirit sharing a body prior to this was for five months. I can't imagine the stress it would have caused, sharing as he did for nearly twelve full months."

Harrison shook his head sadly. He hadn't had too much experience with death before this. Despite being orphaned, the reality of his biological parents deaths wasn't something he'd thought of prior to Hogwarts. He'd been raised by his mum, and that had been enough. He hadn't dwelt on the deaths of Lily and James Potter, and so didn't really understand death.

"Does that mean that Voldemort can't come back ever again? He didn't get the Stone, so, he can't become immortal," Harrison reasoned.

"Alas, no. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share...not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies."

"He nearly got the Stone tonight," Harrison said. "While everyone was distracted by that dragon, he was heading up to the third floor corridor."

"Where you, Miss Granger, and Mr Longbottom so handily distracted him," Dumbledore said. "With a shrinking potion applied to his turban, if I'm not mistaken. A fourth year potion."

The trio exchanged guilty glances.

"Quite excellent potions work, the lot of you," Dumbledore complimented. "Of course, I don't have to tell you that brewing out of lessons is discouraged."

The trio nodded unhappily.

"Discouraged, but not forbidden," Dumbledore said.

Hermione smiled happily. They weren't going to get expelled after all.

"And, as it happens, Professor Quirrell would not have been able to get the Stone, even if he were to pass all the barriers," Dumbledore said.

"Why not?" Neville asked.

"My dear students," Dumbledore said beatifically. "Why would I hide something so valuable in the very spot I told people I would hide it?"

Hermione giggled a little. Harrison shook his head in disbelief, and Neville slapped his forehead.

"So where did you hide it?" Harrison asked curiously.

"Originally, it was hidden in the Mirror of Erised, in the classroom I found you in that night just after Christmas break," Dumbledore replied.

"_In_ the mirror?" Hermione asked.

"A rather ingenious piece of magic, if I do say so myself. Only those who wanted to find the stone, but not use it, would be able to retrieve it," the Headmaster explained.

"So why move it?" Neville asked.

"After you found the mirror, I realised that perhaps it would not be safe after all. So, I found a better hiding place."

"Where was it?" Hermione asked.

Dumbledore smiled, and put his hand into one of the myriad of pockets on his star-spangled robes. He pulled out a small blood-red stone.

"In my pocket."

Hermione smiled brightly. "Genius!"

"Thank you, Miss Granger."

Harrison shook his head, smiling, but inwardly astounded. After everything they had gone through to protect the Stone, and it hadn't even been in danger in the first place. His secret had been exposed to the school for nothing.

Then again, Voldemort was gone, and so was Professor Quirrell.

"Well, I'll let you get some rest, Mr Evans. I'd say you'll be needing it come tomorrow."

Harrison nodded. "Thank you sir."

The headmaster made his way out of the infirmary, and Madame Pomfrey returned to her office, leaving Hermione, Harrison and Neville on one side of the infirmary, and Ron Weasley on the other.

"What did I miss?" Ron called out

The trio just laughed.

00000000000

A/N: So, Harrison's secret is out, Quirrell's gone, and Dumbledore had the stone all along. Dumbledore knew that the trio would never go through those traps, cos they're not freakin' idiots. So, he kept it with him. After all, who the hell would have the audacity to look in big D's pockets?

Also, I hope that bit about Ron isn't taken as bashing. I've tried to just leave him out of it, but he was bitten in canon, so...why not?

One more thing, there's one chapter left, so this is not the end. I have started writing Second Year, but it may be awhile before anyone sees it. I'm in the process of looking for a new place to live, and it is seriously time consuming. Wish me luck!


	17. The Epilogue

Hey everyone! Yep, it's the final chapter. I am working on bok two, I promise, but as I don't like to post without having at least three quarters of a story done, I don't know when my next post will be.

I will post a notice on this fic for everyone who put alerts on the story, so you can be updated on the next instalment though. Thank you's and such are going to be after the chapter. Enjoy!

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: THE EPILOGUE**

Harrison, Hermione and Neville made their way out of the Great Hall, which had been converted into an exam hall. Having just finished their last end of year exam, they were relieved and ready for an afternoon of relaxation. A group of passing sixth years stopped and stared at Harrison, who ducked his head, and tried his best to ignore them.

Neville glared at the older students, who moved on quite quickly.

"How do you think you did?" Hermione asked. "I'm certain I got question fourteen wrong."

"I sincerely doubt that," Harrison replied. "You quizzed us on that question last night. Neville and I are the ones who probably stuffed that question up."

"Speak for yourself," Neville defended.

Harrison snicked. "Sorry."

"Besides, exams are over," Neville said. "Take a breath, relax, and just enjoy the fact that we have the next three days without classes. And then...summer holidays."

"No more pencils, no more books, no more teachers dirty looks," Harrison said, singsong.

Hermione laughed a little. "Alright. No more dissecting exams, I promise," she said.

As they turned into the Entrance Hall, Harrison steered them outside, where they were less likely to be stared at by so many people.

"Well, we made it," Neville said softly. "We got through the first year."

"One down, six to go," Harrison said.

"Was it anything like you thought it'd be?" Neville asked.

Hermione shook her head emphatically. "Not even a little bit. I don't think anyone could have predicted what happened this year."

Harrison laughed. "Definitely not. I didn't really know what to expect. I didn't want to come at first, and now I can't imagine my life without Hogwarts. I'm a little disappointed that I didn't find anything to help my brother."

Hermione reached out and touched Harrison's hand gently.

"You can't think like that Harrison. What was it Professor Snape said?"

Harrison sighed softly. "That I'm eleven, and I can't expect to know all the answers right now."

"Exactly. You know more about herbology and potions, and about human physiology than you did at the start of the year."

"That's true. I guess I just expected the answer to be...magic," he admitted.

Neville shuffled forward and clapped his hand on Harrison's shoulder. "You and I both want to know more about healing people. It may take years, but, it's something we'll never give up on."

Harrison nodded, and he and Neville bumped fists. Hermione searched for a way to lighten the mood.

"With any luck, next year will be less...adventurous," she said.

Harrison shrugged. "It certainly made for an interesting year."

Hermione shook her head. "Vanquishing a Dark Lord should not be in the First Year curriculum."

Neville shrugged. "We did okay," he said. "We exposed Quirrell, and Voldemort. We kept the Stone safe."

Harrison winced. "Not really. Bloody Dumbledore. In his pocket the whole damn time."

"You have to admit, it was quite clever," Hermione said. "Who would have thought to look there? Who would have dared?"

Harrison rolled his eyes. "But, what was the point to it all?" he asked. "Why bother getting the professors to cast enchantments on an empty room? Why let Quirrell stay in a school full of students when he was playing host to the freakin' Dark Lord? It doesn't make any sense."

Hermione had to agree. It didn't make any sense. And judging by the amount of owls that Headmaster Dumbledore had been receiving since Voldemort had been revealed, she guessed that it wasn't making much sense to the parents either.

"Keep your friends close," Hermione began.

"And your enemies closer," Harrison finished. "Not exactly a safe way to go about protecting a school though."

Neville found a soft patch of grass by the lake and settled himself onto the ground. Harrison and Hermione took a seat to his left.

"At least it's over now," Neville said.

"Thank God," Harrison sighed.

Harrison was looking forward to going back home. Now that he'd been outed as the Boy-Who-Lived, the stares, the comments and the questions coming from total strangers was constant. He was just lucky that Hermione had pulled him away from the rude comments when his temper had nearly gotten the better of him. He'd wanted to bloody more than one nose, and it had barely been two weeks since everyone had found out.

"Hey Bowler!" came the echoing greeting of the Weasley twins.

Harrison winced and turned to Neville. "You never should have told them about BWL."

"Better than Boy Liver, which we briefly considered," Fred said.

"Or Liver Boy, which we promptly ignored," George added.

"You know, next year, you could have a real problem on your hands," Fred began.

"Yeah, our little sister Ginny has the biggest crush on you," George continued.

"She doesn't even know me!" Harrison exclaimed.

The twins shrugged simultaneously. "Doesn't matter."

Harrison shook his head. He hadn't been expecting the massive ripple that his identity had sent through Hogwarts. He knew that his picture had been in the wizarding newspaper, The Daily Prophet, though he'd decided not to read anything that was written about him. Better to live in ignorance than have to read what they'd come up.

"Gin grew up hearing about you-" "and she decided you'd be the perfect husband-" "for the perfect wife. She used to write Ginevra Potter on all her notebooks."

"Well, I'm not a Potter," Harrison said. "I'm an Evans."

"Oi! Potter!" the voice came from across the lawn and gained quite a bit of attention.

The trio and the Weasley twins looked up and saw Draco Malfoy advancing towards them, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. Harrison rolled his eyes and stood up, Hermione and Neville following suit. The twins situated themselves on either side of Hermione and Neville, with Harrison in the centre.

"Problem Malfoy?"

"Yeah! You're a coward!" Malfoy accused.

"How so?"

"First, you lied about your name. Second, you never showed up for our duel."

"Oh, I showed up, alright. It's not my fault that you got caught out of bed by Professor McGongall," Harrison replied.

Draco flushed bright red. He'd never told anyone who it wa who'd caught him in the corridors. Being caught by the Gryffindor Head of House was somehow far more demeaning.

The fifty house points he'd lost and the week of detentions had also been less than pleasant.

"How'd you know it was McGonagall?" Draco demanded.

"Because, I saw you get caught. Then you blabbed to Filch about how I was up in the astronomy tower. Too bad that I'd gotten sick of waiting for you to show up," Harrison replied.

Draco's mouth twitched in distaste. Potter couldn't have known that unless he was telling the truth. So much for thinking that the Boy-Who-Lived had welched on their bet.

"I would've won," Malfoy boasted.

Harrison shook his head. "I sincerely doubt that. Or didn't you see what happened to Quirrell last week?"

Malfoy's eye twitched. He had seen the debacle in the Entrance Hall between Ev – _Potter_ and Professor Quirrell. No one was too sure about the details, but Quirrell had ended up being pronounced dead not too long after that confrontation. Whispers around the school were saying that Potter had once again killed the Dark Lord.

"But, if you want another rematch, that's fine," Harrison offered. "Personally, I'm over the whole thing. I don't even want your wand."

"What are you talking about? What do you mean you don't want my wand?" Malfoy was stupefied. He couldn't imagine winning a bet and then declining to take his winnings. He'd certainly have taken Potter's wand if the outcome had been different.

"I don't need your wand, Malfoy. We both know I won the bet. I proved that purebloods don't come first just because they're inbred. I don't need people to tell me I won to know that I'm better than you."

Malfoy was beyond angry. "Better?"

Harrison took his eyes off Malfoy, and gave a quick glance at Crabbe and Goyle, who looked away nervously. They took a step back, away from Malfoy, who suddenly felt very alone. The twins stepped forward, using their superior height to appear menacing.

"Yeah, Malfoy, better," Fred said.

"Haven't you heard?" George asked.

"He's Harry freakin' Potter," Fred all but sang.

With that, Harrison and his friends turned and walked away, leaving Malfoy and his goons to their verbal defeat.

As soon as they were out of earshot of the Slytherin's, Hermione turned to the twins.

"Was that necessary?" she asked.

Fred grinned. "No. But it was fun."

Harrison couldn't help but laugh. The twins commandeering his signature word had been very funny. He wished he'd thought to say it.

"Well, whatever happens next year, at least we know where we stand with Malfoy," Hermione commented.

"Yeah, as far away as possible," Neville cracked.

0000000000000000

Three days later, the train station at Hogsmeade was packed with students who clambered aboard to get good seats. Hermione pointed to the foremost carriage, which was mostly empty due to lazy students not being bothered to walk that far down the platform.

The trio headed towards the front, when Harrison was stopped by a strong hand on his shoulder. He spun quickly, his right hand reaching for his wand, and his left coming up defensively. He relaxed as he saw the Hogwarts groundskeeper, Hagrid, standing there.

"Professor Hagrid," he greeted.

The man laughed his voice deep and booming. "Oh, I'm no professor," the man said. "Rubeus Hagrid's the name. Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

"Harrison Evans," the boy introduced himself.

"I know who ye are," Hagrid replied. "Yeh've got yer mum's eyes."

Harrison bit his tongue in an effort not to point out that his mum had blue eyes, like his brother Dudley.

"I'm jus' sorry we didn' get to meet before now," Hagrid said. "Only, I didn't know."

"You knew – my parents?" he asked.

"Great folks, yer parents," Hagrid said, his voice turning slightly weepy. "Got good memories of the two of 'em here at Hogwarts. A right trouble-maker, yer dad was. And yer mum was beautiful as she were smart."

Harrison fidgeted uncomfortably. He didn't really know to reply to this man who had been so fond of his biological parents.

"Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," Hagrid continued. "I'm the one who took yer to yer aunt's place."

Harrison wondered why the Hogwarts Groundskeeper would have been the one to do that. He'd never really thought of how he'd gone from point A to point B before. Why had Hagrid been the one to take him?

"Good thing too, I kept you from that no good Sirius Black."

"Who?"

Hagrid's eyes widened. "I shouldn't have told yer that. Should not have told yer that."

The whistle on the train sounded and Harrison looked around at the suddenly empty train station. Hermione was hanging out the train door, looking at him expectantly.

"I'm sorry, I have to go," Harrison said.

Hagrid took something from inside a giant pocket and handed it to Harrison. "I put this together fer yer," he said. "And, if you ever need anything at Hogwarts...I'm here."

Harrison looked up at the big man, touched at the sentiment. This was the first time anyone had said anything genuine to him, rather than just wanting the sordid details of the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Thanks Mister Hagrid."

"Hagrid to you, Harry," the giant man replied.

The Boy-Who-Lived winced. "It's Harrison, sir. Just Harrison."

**END**

A/N: Yes, the 'Harry freakin' Potter' line was basically the reason for Harrison's constant use of the word. Harrison was originally going to say it, but it felt very wrong for his character, so the twins were brought in for that by-play. If you don't understand the reference...well...what rock have you been hiding under? Go to Youtube, and search for the Very Potter Musical, and its sequel.

I would like to thank each and everyone who wrote feedback, who put this story into their favourites, and who put the story on alert. I'm extremely grateful for every comment and email I've received. To everyone who gave me advice, and suggestions, you guys are awesome! I love hearing from people with thoughts and ideas.

If you want to make suggestions for things you want to see in book two, I would love to hear from you! For all you Luna fans like me, she'll definitely be featured in the next book!

Just to plug my own stuff a little, check out my profile page, and read the HP fic 'The White Rose'. Tis quite a fluffy one-shot!


End file.
